One little, two little, three little weirdos...

We are the type of people, unfortunately, who are like magnets for weirdos. When we are in public, it is no exception. People just seem to gravitate to us and make strange remarks that make us feel like our clothes are on inside out, or that we are just standing there in our underwear.

I am dedicating this post to all of the above mentioned oddballs who made it possible...

Incident #1: Last week, Clay and I were uber sick. Rather than lay down and die, we got ourselves and all five of our spawn to the walk-in clinic on Saturday morning. We split the kids up semi-fairly (he got the boys, I got the girls)...Anyway, Clay was waiting for the check-in girl to finish and Super Nosy Nana walked in. Typical older woman...tennis shoes with her stretched out slacks...gray/black hair all around her face...glasses. You get the picture. Emma was standing next to Clay at the window.

Super Nosy Nana says, "Well, ain't you a scraaawwwny thang?" I forgot to mention that her voice was like nails on a chalkboard.

Emma, extremely confused, because most of the time people are telling her how adorable she is (even when she isn't) looked up at Clay. "Dad, what does scrawny mean?" "Well, it means you aren't very big..." She was not impressed at all with this.

Incident #2: Same day. Five minutes later. Super Nosy Nana again. Yes, a real piece of work, that one. Alyssa was in the front of the twin stroller and kept throwing a magazine down onto the floor. First of all, I felt like (this is a family blog, so insert your own expletive here). Anyway, after the 3rd time, I stopped picking it up. My kid, my prerogative. Enter Super Nosy Nana, to the rescue.

"Oh, I'll help you - poor little thang...nobody picking that up for you? Here you go."

Honestly, if I wasn't 3/4 of the way dead, I would have strangled the woman. I gritted my teeth..."It is just a game...she has thrown it 3 times already."

SNN says, in an extremely annoying voice..."Well, sometimes she has to win, doesn't she? And that's what Grandma's are for."

I refrained from getting in her face - since her Grandma wouldn't have picked it up either. But I swear, if I had been feeling better...

Incident #3: I like to call this...Way to make us feel like a freak show. Yes, we have 5 kids. I know people with more. I see people on T.V. with almost 4 times as many...Our kids are relatively well-behaved (some of the time)...the real freak show is the family that have 2 kids (you know, one for each parent) and the kids are completely out of control. We have it pretty well covered, I think.

Anyway, on the same day as the other 2 incidents - in the same doctor's office, mind you...yup, you guessed it - the nurse and doctor were shocked at the number of kids we brought with us. Well, what were we supposed to do? Neither of us was about to let the other one leave them at home with all of them, and come home with the coveted antibiotic.

It wasn't too horrible - but we did get the obligatory "Wow, you got your hands full." "Bless your hearts." And the young doctor exclaimed when he walked into my room..."How many all together? You've got three in here and he has three in there?" I corrected, "No, he has only two." His answer? "Are they all yours?" Here's your sign buddy...who in their right mind would bring 5 children to a doctor's appointment if they didn't have to?

Incident #4: Marathon Man. One Saturday, we were in Sam's Club after working out at the Y. We were standing in line, minding our own business, when the man in front of us started talking to me. "So, I saw you at the Y. I was the one running." Oh, okay...not sure how to answer that, but...okaaaaayyyy. "You were just walking." I finally answered, "Yes, I was Cooling Down."

He tried again..."Well, I took a shower before I came here - you guys are still all sweaty. I don't like to do my errands all sweaty."

Zing. Ouch. Where do we find these people?

Incident #5: I am going to close with this incident for tonight, because I think that it deserves mention. Most of you know that Zach is adopted. He is half hispanic and half caucasian, so well....he doesn't really look much like us. In California, nobody really seemed to notice. Here in the South, everyone notices.

We were in Wendy's, eating lunch a few years ago...minding our own business. A woman came up to us and said. "You have the cutest kids, but that one - he doesn't look like you."

Wow.

Way to make a kid feel like he doesn't belong. Let's just play the Sesame Street game "One of these things is not like the other" while we are at it, shall we?

We replied (as politely as possible). Yes, he is our son. We adopted him.

"Really? I was just thinking how he looks so much like my ex-boyfriend...I mean, just like him."

Ummmm...do you think he is the father or something? Why say that, honestly? And more importantly, how do we answer that?

I swear, if some people had brains, they would just take them out and play with them.