Ch 24: What's with the sour face?
>> Thursday, August 23, 2012 –
Coffee,
keep calm carry on
Awake, kicking in his bouncer.
We have just arrived home from a lunch
date to a new local cafe with our dear friend and bub.
And when I say just arrived home I
meant it. Wha? You're typing already?
Yes indeed, I need to get this down
whilst the steam was still filtering from my ears.
Girls, women, ladies, mothers. I ask – when did we lose the sisterhood?
When did we stop looking out for each
other?
Ok, pipe down AP. Breathe..breathe.
Fine.
As I said, the little master and I
wondered off to check out a new cafe in town with his super cute
mate, Mr F and his mother. Excited by the prospect of chowing down a
hearty lunch with great views of the city, not to mention fabulous
company, we had an extra spring in our step as we arrived.
Situated in a new housing development,
it was relatively quiet for a Thursday lunchtime. Even better, me
thinks. Quick service and we can have the place to ourselves.
Almost.
The 'baby on board' stickers upon
several cars parked out the front suggested we weren't the only mums
getting out of the house today. Not a problem from my end, happy to
coo over other gorgeous bubbas.
Yet my entry to the cafe was not met by the same warm welcome.
AP (standing in the cafe entrance, dear
friend holding the door open for me): 'Excuse me, sorry can you
please..umm excuussse me? Hello? I just need to pop past..excuse me?'
We've all been there right? Not that
hard to move slightly to the side to allow someone to get past.
But did you experience this?
Sour faced looking mother eventually
manages to glance in my direction, gives me a look that suggested I
was a filthy whorebag and how dare I even attempt getting past with
my pram.
How dare I.
And yes, I said whorebag.
Her response: 'You just need to move
the chair..' (picture said sour faced mother condescendingly instructing
me to move the chair which was actually right next to her and was
also pressed up against a toddler. With reluctance, but still with a
half smile on my face, I moved the chair. Sorry kid).
Stuck. Still.
AP (embarrassed, slightly frustrated but with smile still on face): 'I'm sorry, I still can't get through..?'
By this stage there were now three
mothers pretending I didn't exist or need any assistance, rolling
their eyes still refusing to budge or move another chair or, heaven
forbid, touch their designer nappy bag.
Enter mother number four who has just
ordered from the counter, on her way back: 'Here, let me help you as
she guided the front of my pram through their marked territory'.
Unfortunately her tone also reeked of
reluctance, abruptness and basically down right cat like behaviour to
be completely honest.
With the smile still etched on my face
and with dear friend behind me (there was no room for her to get past
and assist...just in case you were wondering), we took the three
whole steps past the group, who were now tucking into a bottle of
Sauvignon Blanc, and gracefully thanked mother number four for her
assistance which was 'much appreciated'.
Unbeknown to me, but on the record from
my dear friend, the cat like snarls continued to burn in the back of
my head as we made our way to a table.
How sad.
Was it something I said? Something I
did? All I did was turn up to a cafe with a pram, just like they did.
Although we were both shocked and quite pissed off by what we just encountered, we carried on and had a great lunch.
The service was lovely, the food was
fresh and tasty and the coffee really hit the spot. Winner.
But what I shame I still managed to
leave with such a sour taste in my mouth.
Asleep now in his bed. Heavy rain outside, how
timely as a thundery storm is about to pass.
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