Who's Kid Is It Anyway?

So, let's start this off with a bang. I'm on an airplane yesterday with my husband and my son. My son, the Bug, is 6 months old, over 20 pounds, 29 inches long, and ridiculously strong. For those of you who cannot relate to the numbers, I gave birth to Bam-Bam Rubble. For those of you who cannot relate to that, you're way too young.

So, going back to the baby, holding Buggy still for any amount of time is exhausting! He's a very good baby, but he loves to twist and turn and look around and grab everything he can... glasses, ties, hair, clothes, books, newspapers. All of which does not need to belong to his parents. I decided to take a little 10 minute break, and strap him into the empty seat between us.

Now, I'm not stupid. I'm not going to leave my 6 month old child, unattended, strapped in by a lap belt for the flight. My husband had one hand on him, I had another hand on him, and the kid was ecstatic. I started to get the circulation in my arms back as well as feeling back in my neck.

Then the flight attendant comes by, kneels down, and with that smarmy, service induced, holier than thou whine, tells me that it's not safe for the baby to sit in a seat by himself and I'm supposed to be holding him. I stated back that he's wearing a seat belt and his father and I are holding him. The attendant just smiles that slick, fake smile and shrugs, standing there, staring at me, until I take my monster baby out of the seat and back onto my lap. I wanted to throw my seat-cushion-that's-really-a-flotation-device at his shiny little head.

Who the hell did he think he was? This was my child and I take damned good care of him. I can't imagine that sitting in an airplane seat, with a lap belt, and both of his parents' hands on him can be anymore dangerous during turbulence (of which there was none) than his mother trying to hang onto him. It's not like I was trying to stuff the child into the overhead compartment! I pay waaaaaaaaay too much money, to sit my size 14 butt in a size 2 seat, plus ludicrous fees because I dare to pack clothes and necessities for myself and my family, subjected to what somehow passes as food, engine noise, basically being shuttled like cattle and now snotty flight attendants.

Since Buggy's birth, it's become alarmingly clear to me that we're losing control of our lives and our children's lives in today's society. We seem to have somehow lost the ability to make informed decisions, whether it's choosing to go onto a medication for post-partum depression, daring to gain 1 pound over the "15 recommended" for pregnancy, choosing a bottle over a breast, or not choosing the $75 organic, made from the rare oochy boochy tree of southern Peru formula to feed your kid. Early motherhood has become fear based.

Perfect strangers feel the right to jump on you, your intuition, your confidence, and your love and devotion as a mother to tell you that you suck. Once upon a time, we only had to worry about a nosy mother in law, but now it's.... EVERYBODY? How's a chick to compete with that? How do you become a mom with some snarky flight attendant telling you that you're a bad mom?

What really, really makes mad? Is that I sat in my too small seat, clutching my baby, embarrassed, and angry, with all these words in my head - words that I have a right to say. But I didn't say a thing, because I'm a "good girl" who didn't want to make a scene.