If you’ll let me, I’ll describe for you a look of horror I know all too well– come with me, virtually that is– to a chipotle in anywhere town USA, and examine closely the face of any one of the several workers standing behind the counter when I darken the door with all of my kids— there you’ll see it plain as day. Now, if you want to see that horror extend to near-death, just add my husband into the mix. For some reason, my family of seven is not seen in the same vein as seven separate customers– that would just be par for the course. My seven are the thorn in their sides– both the reason they wish they called off that day and hate working in the food industry in the first place .
Sadly, this is not an isolated incident either: let me take you to the very popular, highly exclusive bulk store I purchased a membership to. There they have samples galore just waiting for members to enjoy. Enter me and my children as we walk up to one station in particular. From behind the cart, and in our direction, an employee poorly whispers “Oh God”! I asked the woman, “is something wrong?”, to which she replied, “Oh no, I was just thinking how now I’ll have to make a whole new batch of samples.” Taken aback, I thought to myself, “isn’t that what you stand here all day doing?” “Aren’t there customers besides my children, in front of my children, and behind my children, all wanting for samples too?” I allowed my kids to get their samples, then headed for the door to leave. Before I could make my exit, however, the woman found me. She apologized for being rude and making us feel uncomfortable– I appreciated that she did.
What’s interesting is, of all the people who are so bothered by my large family, no one feels the strain of having five children more than me and my husband– nonetheless, from the stares, remarks, and the occasional rude treatment, you’d think my family has somehow put the final strain on an otherwise blessed and care-free world. Thank goodness for the people who counter those opinions with well wishes, who tell stories about the fond memories of their own large families, and those strangers who sometimes lend me a helping hand when I’m out with the kids by myself. If not for them and me knowing how fortunate I am for having been blessed seven times (of course I include myself), I’d have a much harder time overlooking people’s ignorance.