“Maybe you women should get a damn job.”
The man’s voice, thick with whiskey, cut through the buzz of chatter around us, drawing the attention of nearby patrons. A scene was brewing, one that would undoubtedly be recounted later.
He appeared to be in his fifties, white, with thinning gray hair—a classic know-it-all who felt compelled to voice his opinions, especially in an airport bar.
Initially, I considered him harmless as he slid onto the adjacent barstool, drink in hand, while I ordered what I anticipated would be the first of many rum and cokes during a lengthy layover in Charlotte. “Hey there! Mind if I join you?” he asked. I nodded, granting permission. “Where are you headed, sweetheart?”
I cringed internally at the term of endearment, a common occurrence in the South. Having grown up in a similar atmosphere, I was accustomed to it.
“Off to Memphis,” I replied, crunching on an ice cube—definitely a classy move.
“Are you heading out or heading back home?” He settled in, rattling his glass for another round. I recognized that move all too well.
After I mentioned my trip to New York, he inquired whether I was there on vacation or alone. That “alone” stung a bit, but I maintained my composure. “Actually, I was there for a business meeting,” I replied, which prompted him to reassess his gaze.
When he asked about my profession, I mentioned that I was a writer. “Have you written anything I would know?” he chuckled, and I couldn’t help but find humor in his assumption. “Doubtful,” I said, feeling cynical about his demographic.
“Parenting blogs. BLEH! Everyone’s writing those these days. What do you think that accomplishes? Who even reads them?”
Here’s a tip for engaging in friendly conversation: when someone shares their profession, it’s generally rude to dismiss it straight away. But I digress.
I sighed, signaling for another drink. The bartender and I were about to become best friends.
“Well, if you’re genuinely curious, our audience mainly consists of parents—especially moms, but also dads, caregivers, teachers, and nannies. It’s not just about venting, although that’s a significant part of it. Sharing frustrations can be hard when society tells you not to complain. When we express our challenges, it fosters a sense of community and reassures people they aren’t alone. Parenting is no walk in the park, and everyone worries about making the right choices.”
The bartender nodded, giving me a fist bump. She had previously mentioned being a single mom herself. She placed my drink down with a wink and moved on to another customer.
“I’ve raised three boys,” he boasted. “Never had time to sit around and feel sorry for myself. I work for a living. Maybe you women ought to get real jobs.”
I should have simply left, but my patience had worn thin, and I wasn’t about to hold back. Today was not the day for silence. I burst into laughter, tears welling in the corners of my eyes.
“Oh sweetie,” I managed to say between chuckles. Men love being called “sweetie” in a condescending tone. “What’s so funny?” he demanded.
“Oh, you poor thing. I can’t tell if you’re drunk, clueless, or just didn’t hear me. Did you miss that I was in New York for work? I HAVE a job. But even if I didn’t, raising kids is a full-time gig. If you doubt that, try hiring a nanny or babysitter for free. You’ve got three grown sons, and you NEVER worried about making the best choices? Either that’s a bold-faced lie, or I feel sorry for your wife. I want to send her flowers for putting up with your nonsense. Seriously. Write down her address so I can send her something nice. Hey, wait! Where are you going? I can send her chocolate or wine!”
I called after him as he retreated from the bar, but he didn’t look back. The bartender surprised me with a plate of nachos, which she said were on the house. I chuckled, contemplating what else I could have said, only to get annoyed again. We all do that, right?
After a few more drinks, I called my husband—not just to confirm my ride, but to chat with a man who doesn’t make me want to pull my hair out. Sometimes you have to encounter the trash to appreciate the treasure at home, or something like that.
I often think of that poor man’s wife and still want to send her flowers.
For those looking to explore more about motherhood and parenting, check out this post on the home insemination kit. If you’re considering the journey of parenthood, Cryobaby’s at-home insemination kit is a great option. For further insights into fertility and pregnancy, visit this CDC resource on infertility.
Summary
Motherhood is often undervalued and dismissed, yet it requires immense dedication and effort. Engaging in conversations about parenting can reveal misunderstandings and stereotypes, but it’s also an opportunity to educate others on the realities and challenges of raising children.
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