I freaking meant it. Well. Miss Woodland Creature Granola Bar (I'm surprised she takes her children to the doctor for diagnosis and treatment instead of the village apothecary for poultices and herbs) didn't get the memo.

So before I tell you the story, here it is again (the memo that is), for all to see and save for future reference.

MEMORANDUM FROM THE DESK OF STEPHANIE DELGER

TO: ANYONE WHO MAY SEE ME IN THE WAITING ROOM OF ANY SORT OF DOCTOR'S OFFICE

RE: TALKING TO ME

Just don't do it.

END MEMORANDUM

We clear? I may seem nice, and sometimes I even am. But not in the doctor's office. I may be your best friend elsewhere, but in the doctor's office? I hate you. Go away. Miss Woodland Creature Granola Bar - I'm looking at you.

First of all, I don't want your germs or your kid's germs or your dog's germs. I don't know when you last washed your hands or brushed your teeth. Second of all, I am decidedly UNinterested in your ailments/diseases/illnesses/complaints/butt hurt. Thirdly, and perhaps most importantly, I already have way to many people in my life I'm required to treat nicely and spend time with. So I really don't want to be your friend. If you are looking for a new bosom buddy, today is not your day and I am not your girl.

So.

This Woodland Fairy Creature.

As soon as she floated in wearing her burlap dress secured at the waist with a rope made from hemp I knew there would be trouble. I always ask for the first morning appointment at the doctor's office because it means the waiting room is usually empty. Then I get there early because that usually means the doctor will see me earlier as she didn't have any previous appointments running over time and holding me up. So I thought I was home free yesterday when I took Ella in to check her weight progress. It was empty when I got there. We had the entire room - that probably seats thirty by the way - to ourselves.

But then I heard someone humming "We are the World" and encouraging her daughter to "express herself through the majesty of song" (ok - I made that up but I am sure this woman has done something very similar) and I tried really hard to look engrossed in a random pamphlet I grabbed off the table.

Why, God, why! Did it have to be about extended breast feeding? So Granola Gertrude plunks her natural ass down right next to mine and wants to talk.

Crap.

She immediately started yipping at me about the wonder and magic of nursing (sorry - don't see the magic in cracked and bleeding nipples, engorgement, and the surprising pain of the pull of a toothless mouth. I'm doing it, but I wouldn't call it magical) and how she didn't wean her first three until the were at least four and did I have a home birth? Was I interested in free birth? Jesus Lord, how do these people find me?

I tried to scare her off with tales of only breastfeeding Joshua for two weeks before switching to formula and of how I do breastfeed Ella but we also have to supplement with special formula because she's so tiny and how I had two c-sections; but she was not deterred. There was just no shaking this freak show. She yipped at me some more about how I was tricked into surgical birth and cheated of a real birth experience, which - and I surprised myself with this amount of patience - I listened to almost in full before politely (politely? I must be getting old) telling her to back the Holy Crap off.

I then tried to find a pamphlet about hippie repellent, but there weren't any. Dammit.

Then she comes at me with this little number, as if I hadn't just pointedly turned away from her and started reading some stupid piece of doctor's office material.

"So, do you have a television set?"

Is that a trick question? Is this 1948 and no one told me? Does anyone call it a television set anymore?

Against my better judgment I answered that we do, in fact, own the magic picture box technology.

Then she's all, "I thought so. I noticed your son has Sesame Street shoes"

And I'm all, "Uh huh."

And she's all, 'We don't have a television."

And I'm all, "Couldn't afford one?"

Sorry - lapsed into my high school freshman speech tags. I promise no other speakers referred to in this post will "be all" anything.

I get kind of bitingly sarcastic I guess, when people won't pick up on social cues to leave me the eff alone.

So she says, "I can't believe you bought him something that has Oscar the Grouch on it."

Ever the glutton for punishment, I responded once again instead of getting up and moving. A lady is never openly rude if she can help it, after all. I prefer the subtle "I really hate you and I want you to know it but everyone else hearing our conversation wouldn't pick up on that particular nuance necessarily" method.

"Actually, my mother bought them while I was in the hospital having a surgical birth with lots of drugs and medical intervention. I would not actually have purchased them myself, but that isn't because of any moral objection to Sesame Street. It's more because I hate, really really hate, character clothing. I tend to dress my children like mini-adults. But now he has them, there's no way he's parting with them until his feet grow right through them."*

*This is mostly true, I do dress them in nice clothing I'd rather they'd not get dirty, but I don't say, make them tie sweaters around their necks and carry their tennis rackets around. I don't think they're old enough to pull that off yet.

I was really hoping to appall her to the point of speechlessness. It didn't work.

She proceeded to tell me how I'm "ruining my children...blah blah blah" by letting them watch TV and especially Oscar the Grouch because he "isn't nice blah blah blah" and he "says the word 'stupid' blah blah blah".

"K, you know what Harriet Hippie? Some things? Are stupid. And that's OK. So I'll make you a deal. I'll throw out my television and start feeding my children roots and sprouts when you bring your children up to date on their vaccinations."

It was just a hunch. And I was right. That shut her up.