Suburban Goddess

I was at a spa party Friday night (aka HEN party) where you’re held captive by a sales pitch as somebody rubs your feet. This is actually my second Hen, er, spa party, so I knew what to expect this time. Despite the fact that it reminds me of those timeshare meetings, I went anyway because my friend who was hosting the party had done quite a few favors for me, and I felt that I owed her that much. Besides, a foot rub & a glass of wine for a sales pitch isn’t a bad trade off; I’ve learned to tune out sales people in my profession.

In the end, I was glad I showed up, because only four other women showed, and that was including the hostess’ mother. In a neighborhood known for large gatherings, this was truly a slap in the face. But that’s another story.

One of the few women who came is from the Ukraine, and has a heavy Russian accent. This is where good-old American stereotypes make things interesting. L recently had a baby, so she was watching for products to use with her newborn son. As the saleswoman delivered her pitch, she pulled out a tube of sunscreen and started touting about how wonderful, greaseless, & all-natural the product was. L eyed her with some skepticism.

“Can you put that on baby?” L asked, her accent particularly heavy.

“Of course! It’s completely natural!” says Saleslady with a big Saleslady smile.

“Let me see,” L says, holding out her hand. Saleslady faltered for a moment, but handed over the tube with a flash of her pearly whites. There was an uncomfortable silence for a moment as L read the contents, her eyebrows knitting together in a frown.

“No, this no good for baby. Too many chemicals….” L rattled off the names, which sounded something like polysorbithesalesladyisscrewedatol.

“What is it you do?” Saleslady asked nervously.

“PhD, chemist,” L replied, still shaking her head at the list of chemicals. “No, I would NEVER put this on baby.”

Inwardly, I am dying of laughter. I learned a long time ago not to judge an accent by it’s cover, but Americans in their self-important state always seem to assume that if you don’t speak English, you’re stupid. The rest of the evening went remarkably well, because Saleslady pulled back the hard-sell after that and we were able to enjoy the wine, the foot rubs, and each other’s company.

How could you possibly be against immigration laws after something like that?

We have a neighbor with a little boy who is discipline-challenged. It’s not his fault he’s bad, but he is. He’s so bad that we don’t really want to be seen in public with this kid. What’s funny about it, is that the mom doesn’t realize it. In fact, when other children misbehave in front of her, she’ll make the comment, “I’d NEVER let my kid act like that.”

Choke. Cough. Sputter. WHAT????

But that makes me start to wonder, am I oblivious to my child’s bad behavior because I’m blinded by her cuteness? Recently we went to a Mexican restaurant for dinner when she decided to sail off the deep end. I noticed the other patrons cringing as her wails became more annoying then fingernails down the blackboard. My husband finally removed her from the restaurant, and when he returned, she was normal again. It was only about a minute of screaming, but in any other situation, I would have been highly irritated. Take that damn screaming kid out of here! How rude!

But I didn’t see it that way. I saw my child acting out because I took a straw away from her, and refused to give in at the expense of other’s comfort. My God, what’s happened to me??? I recognize my child was being bad, however, my common sense packed up and moved away.

I know discipline in public situations is a tricky thing. Perhaps I’ll try not to be so judgmental in the future.