We went to the farm yesterday afternoon: our annual trek to Belluz to buy pumpkins!
For the most part we had a really good time. The big boys are at an age where we don’t have to keep them in our sights every second and the little boy is at an age where he is incapable of moving. That means Jason and I don’t have to run ourselves ragged making sure our kids don’t run into the oncoming path of a combine harvester, or something like that. We picked out our pumpkins, had some treats, pet some animals, went into the smaller corn maze, and went on the tractor ride through the fields.
The tractor ride was where things took a turn for the inconvenient. One of the farmers asked all the kids on the trailer (behind the tractor) to sing as loud as they could. You see, the tractor is loud, so you want to sing loud so the farmer can actually hear.
She began leading the kids in an incredibly loud, screechy, and off-key rendition of Michael Row the Boat Ashore and almost immediately R3 began wailing. As the first piercing screeches of the singers piercing the air, I saw his eyes pop open in shock and then his face crumpled into a terrified howl. He literally cried for 30 minutes and nothing I did could comfort him. He cried and cried and then he would quiet down for a few seconds and then start again.
Just wanted to clarify that I’m not mad at the farmer and we will be coming back next year!
I was a bit embarrassed because of course my baby’s first major freak out would be in front of thirty people. Well, technically his first freak out happened at home when I said HEY too loudly in front of him and he was startled and then inconsolable. But that only last ten minutes. This was unreal and makes me think at he is sensitive to certain sounds just like R1 was as a baby/toddler.
I think most of the people on the tractor ride were fine with my cry baby, nobody (that I saw) was shooting me dirty looks or whispering to their neighbours about the bad mom who can’t keep her baby calm. Luckily after our harrowing journey, R3 was able to fall asleep in the carrier and was happy on the ride home.
When we were just about ready to leave, a woman approached us and said, “I want to thank you guys for being such awesome parents!” I thought she was going to compliment me on my ability to remain cool while my baby was losing his shit. But surprisingly, she was referring to how we let our kids be themselves and express themselves and not worry about how society dictates gender norms. All that because of R2’s outfit of choice! It was so nice to hear from someone who gets it.
Colours are gender neutral!
A boy who wears pink will not lose his testicles!
Children of the world, be free to be you, even in a pumpkin patch!
My mom and I went to the grocery store; I brought R3 with us so I could keep holding him close in the carrier as he was exhausted and intermittently cranky from his earlier ordeal. As often happens, a lady approached me in the grocery store to coo and ooo about the cuteness of my little babe. She remarked on his red rimmed eyes and said he must be tired. I said, “yeah, he’s pretty tired and he’s been crying off and on all afternoon which has made his eyes so red.” She took a step back, gave us the up-and-down and said, “Oh, well no wonder he’s crying. Poor guy is wearing pink socks!” Then she did that thing where she pretended to speak as if the baby was speaking: “Why do you make me wear pink socks, mom?!”
I just said, I’m pretty sure that’s not why he’s crying, and walked away.
Anyway, just remember, no matter how many people commend your parenting, it all boils down to what colour your children are wearing.