The Bride & her brunette maids.
So when I farewelled the dance floor at 11 sharp and hailed for my cab on Brunswick Street, its fair to say I was a little sad. It had been a fabulous day! But it was over for me, which was okay. But, a little sad.
I left with a dramatic exit, as most of my exits are. Frantic hand waving out the cab window, air kisses, lip kisses, boob grabbing, hootering and hollering. You get the scene. So, once this was all done and the light turned green, Mr Yellow Cabs asked; "Where you off to...?" to which I replied with my address. To which he replied; "which way do you want to go...?" To which I replied, "Well, I don't know. Whichever way is quickest I have a hungry baby at home..!"
Mr Yellow Cabs was not expecting this response, nor was I expecting his, which went something like this;
"... You have a baby? You should be at home with your baby. You should not be out on the town drinking... ! Why are you out? Who is with your baby? It is not your place..." And then his phone rang so his rant came to an abrupt end.
As I sat in the cab feeling horribly judged, I felt the need to justify my night out to myself. Mr Yellow Cabs was too busy talking on his phone so his questions were left unanswered so I didn't get to tell him all of these things...
I didn't get to tell him that I was out celebrating my best friends upcoming marriage. I didn't get to tell him that I had been looking forward to this day for over a year and that it was my first night out in 15 months, maybe more. Nor did I get to tell him I could count my alcohol comsumption on one hand. I didn't get to tell him that my husband was an adorable and capable dad that had not gone to the bucks day so he could drive my baby to me throughout the day for feeds, nor did I get to tell him that I had held my phone in my hand all day waiting for an SOS call. I also didn't get to say that I had been expressing milk from myself like a cow all week so that my baby could have breast milk because god forbid he have formula, whilst all along knowing he wont take a bottle. And I didn't get to say that I had pureed my whole vegetable supply just in case he got a sudden urge to try something new. Oh, and I didnt get to tell him that my boobs felt like solid rocks and were threatening to explode all over his cab.
Nope. I didn't tell him all this.
Instead, I sat there feeling like a bad mother.
Bad, bad mother.
Well, Mr Yellow Cabs, you can go stick it because I am not a bad mother. Nope, I am not. And I am darn right sick of people judging mothers. Really and completely honestly over it. We are all doing our best. Yes, we might forget to put a hat on our child's head on a slightly sunny day and yes, our child's shorts might be on back the front. And, yes it appears I am crazy and loose, but reserve your judgement because you are only seeing a snippet of my day. You are not seeing the before and afters, the creative planning and the juggling act.
Mr Yellow Cabs you should be kind to all mothers. Hear, what I say?!? Everyone should be kind to mothers.
And you know what else... Don't ask me for flippn' directions. I don't bloody know. I am not the driver. YOU ARE.
And no, there is no tip.
Love Jo xxx
Have you felt like a bad mother? Have you been judged by a cab driver? Why would you have said to him?