The BabySnatcher

For those of you who are already parents, you can empathize. For those of you who are not yet, but may be some day, take heed. There are people in this world (who you might not even know) who have no sense of personal space or propriety and feel entitled in your life to play "extended family member" or "child development expert" unsolicited and unwelcome.

Last Sunday, we had our first real taste of this phenomenon at church. We entered a couple minutes late and were confused to not see the "parents with very young children" pews that are usually at the back of the church. These pews are cleverly placed toward the back exit-in the the case of a meltdown, the harried parents can make a quick escape. A very nice (we thought, anyway) old lady usher (who we had never met, but has seen many times from a distance) pointed to a square area of pews to the left at the back of the church after deftly assessing that there was in fact an infant in our portable seat/carseat. We made our way over to the new parent and young child corral and got comfortable. The Bean was not happy. She was being Fussypants, and was not as intrigued as usual with the songs and stained glass. So, I got out a receiving blanket and draped it over us and nursed her to sleep. She slept for a blissful half an hour and looked like a little angel (gush. I'm entitled. Sometimes).

Part of a Catholic mass, for those of you unaware, is a lovely gesture of peace to those around you. By this time the ushers had come by for the offerings, and little did I know the Old Lady Usher had designs on us for this part of the service. As soon as the Priest said the bit about Christ saying ‘I leave you peace, my peace I give to you.’ , she made her move. She made a bee line straight for our corral, which was no longer our sanctuary. She was like a grey streak with a mission. And that mission was Gillian. At this point, Gillian was still a picture of sweetness all sleeping and serene. Before she came. I saw her coming and thought, "oh, how nice-she's going to wish peace on Gillian and tell us some nice thing about our little bundle of joy". WRONG. She wrangled her out of my arms, pumped her up and down in the air (startling her awake and then scaring her to death with her unfamiliar face and clown-like smiling), saying "HE's so beautiful". Does she look like a boy? Especially when she has that shirt on R. let us borrow that says HOMEGIRL. I guess that's what I get from breaking out of the "girls wear pink and boys wear blue" convention. Poor Gillian didn't know what hit her. I am sure her experience is how I have felt when I am startled awake at 8 am on a Saturday having a heart attack because I am late to work, but in reality am not even working that day.

So, I will be on the lookout this Sunday for the BabySnatcher, and I won't be so dumbfounded this time. No "deer in the headlights" delayed reaction as a crazy lady rips my child out of my arms, shakes her like a martini mixer, and insults us at the same time. No...this time I will have a vice grip on her and will flail my other arm in front of us to break her babysnatching stride if need be. Just know-seemingly nice, stable people lose it over miniature bald, chubby, underdeveloped human beings and will invade your space to get their hands on them. I am sorry to say I have witnessed it first hand.