We bonded over a bowel movement in the dairy section of the Dorothy Lane Kroger. Well, I guess it was the lack of a bowel movement, really. Not on my part, but on hers. I don't remember much else about her--what she was wearing, how many children she had with her, or what type of yogurt she was getting. I just know that it had been hours, days really, since she'd had a proper bowel movement.
I'm not sure what made her confide in me, the lady in threadbare shorts with four kids in tow. The woman who was searching for a healthy yogurt alternative amongst all the sugar-laden dairy products. Maybe it was the length of time I had been standing in front of the yogurt section that did it: the sheer number of minutes I stood there convinced her that I was dedicated to the cause and that I was okay to speak to. But confide in me, she did.
"I'm looking for something for my gut," she said. "I gotta get my insides moving, if you know what I mean." The woman's eyebrows rose on her forehead and a smile lit up her face.
Of course I knew what she meant. With each pregnancy and delivery, I'd gotten stopped up, for lack of a more eloquent way to say it. In fact, since Melina has come along, my insides have never been the same. (Of course, you know this already. We talk poop here. Often. Our conversation about it might even be more regular than your bowels are.) Every once in a while I require a senna laxative to get things moving in the right direction, but for the most part, a diet of fruits and vegetables does the trick. For this lady, it was yogurt.
"I used to be a runner," she continued. She really had my attention now. It had been weeks since I'd run. Maybe I could relive the experience through her. "But now, I just can't. I don't seem to be able to find the time. And I just got divorced, so you, know, I'm stressed all the time..."
The woman let that last sentence slip right out, to someone she'd just met. I wasn't quite sure what to say, so I nodded, urging her to continue.
"Yeah, and the weight's just piling up. Can't seem to shake it off. But I'm thinking that yogurt can help get me back into shape. And of course, get these bowels going." Her arms extended to grasp one of the cold, plastic containers. She turned it to the side to inspect the dietary information and then glanced up at me. I felt like I had to say something.
"I'm a runner, too." I started. "I think the exercise can keep things moving, so to speak, and it can keep weight off. Probably better than yogurt, to be honest. But you know what? Stress can cause all sorts of issues with weight. The stress axis is a funny thing..."
The woman's eyes gleamed with interest. I'd just given her a reason for why she was putting weight on and she held onto the reason with both hands. "Huh. What are you, a doctor or something?"
"I teach Anatomy and Physiology. We talk about about the HPA axis. And truthfully, many things can make it go screwy. Setting it right again? It's hard to do but with time, that might help you out. What I'm saying is, cut yourself some slack. It sounds like you've got a lot on your plate." I looked to make sure the kids were behaving and not lurking in the snack aisle. Talia and Zoe were deep in their own conversation while Melina gazed longingly at a block of cheese. Aaron jumped behind the cart with a guilty look on his face. I still don't know what he had been doing.
"From the looks of it, so do you. You run too, eh?" she said.
"I do." I didn't tell her how long I'd been away from one of my favorite hobbies. She didn't need to know my garbage; today was a day for her to purge her own.
"How far?"
"I'm injured now, but my favorite long run is 10 miles." I heard the wistfulness in my own voice. Seriously. I knew the moment I uttered the words the woman would think I was barmy.
"Oh lord," the woman let out a low whistle. "I'm not a runner like that. If I can go two miles, I'm lucky."
"You could be, if you wanted to be," I said. "I started out with a mile and built my way up."
"You did?" Her eyebrows lifted up on her forehead, again.
"I sure did. No joke."
The woman paused, a genuine smile pasted to her face. "Well, thank you," the woman said. "I guess I'll get this yogurt right here. If I can get these bowels going, then I'll start to feel better. And that will take some of the stress away right there, you know?"
"I do know." I nodded and grabbed a couple of containers myself. "I know how I feel when I'm bloated," I said. "It's no fun."
"That, it isn't," the woman replied. "And maybe I'll set my sights on my running again. That should help, too." She took a quick assessment of her own kids and then glanced back my way. "So many things to think about when we're moms, you know?"
"Yep." I glanced at my watch. I really needed to move, and soon. We had other places to be that day. "Well, good luck with everything. You have a great day."
"You, too," the woman replied.
We smiled one last time at one another, and parted ways. I grasped the handles of the grocery cart, turned it up the corridor, and moved it along the next aisle. The kids trailed behind me.
"Who was that?" one of them asked.
"I'm not sure. I just met her."
"And you were talking about poop? In a grocery store?"
They had a point, a very good point. The woman and I had discussed, albeit briefly and in a very innocuous way, a topic I always tell them to keep away from the dinner table. And here I was talking to a complete stranger about it?
"It's different, kids. It's just that..." I turned to see four pairs of eyes, wide and round, waiting for an explanation for why I could talk about poop in a grocery store and they couldn't. I didn't have the energy in me to explain the difference. Not then. After I'd discussed the issue with a complete stranger and didn't feel funny about it at all.
"Cupcakes," I said. "Who wants to buy cupcakes?"
Someday, they'll understand the feeling of camaraderie I experienced that day in the Kroger on Dorothy Lane. Someday, they'll know that when it comes to motherhood, there are a multitude of different experiences, but many of them bond us together--bowel movements being only one of them. And someday, they might even realize that this bonding moment dealt with so much more than just poop.
I'm not sure what made her confide in me, the lady in threadbare shorts with four kids in tow. The woman who was searching for a healthy yogurt alternative amongst all the sugar-laden dairy products. Maybe it was the length of time I had been standing in front of the yogurt section that did it: the sheer number of minutes I stood there convinced her that I was dedicated to the cause and that I was okay to speak to. But confide in me, she did.
"I'm looking for something for my gut," she said. "I gotta get my insides moving, if you know what I mean." The woman's eyebrows rose on her forehead and a smile lit up her face.
Of course I knew what she meant. With each pregnancy and delivery, I'd gotten stopped up, for lack of a more eloquent way to say it. In fact, since Melina has come along, my insides have never been the same. (Of course, you know this already. We talk poop here. Often. Our conversation about it might even be more regular than your bowels are.) Every once in a while I require a senna laxative to get things moving in the right direction, but for the most part, a diet of fruits and vegetables does the trick. For this lady, it was yogurt.
"I used to be a runner," she continued. She really had my attention now. It had been weeks since I'd run. Maybe I could relive the experience through her. "But now, I just can't. I don't seem to be able to find the time. And I just got divorced, so you, know, I'm stressed all the time..."
The woman let that last sentence slip right out, to someone she'd just met. I wasn't quite sure what to say, so I nodded, urging her to continue.
"Yeah, and the weight's just piling up. Can't seem to shake it off. But I'm thinking that yogurt can help get me back into shape. And of course, get these bowels going." Her arms extended to grasp one of the cold, plastic containers. She turned it to the side to inspect the dietary information and then glanced up at me. I felt like I had to say something.
"I'm a runner, too." I started. "I think the exercise can keep things moving, so to speak, and it can keep weight off. Probably better than yogurt, to be honest. But you know what? Stress can cause all sorts of issues with weight. The stress axis is a funny thing..."
The woman's eyes gleamed with interest. I'd just given her a reason for why she was putting weight on and she held onto the reason with both hands. "Huh. What are you, a doctor or something?"
"I teach Anatomy and Physiology. We talk about about the HPA axis. And truthfully, many things can make it go screwy. Setting it right again? It's hard to do but with time, that might help you out. What I'm saying is, cut yourself some slack. It sounds like you've got a lot on your plate." I looked to make sure the kids were behaving and not lurking in the snack aisle. Talia and Zoe were deep in their own conversation while Melina gazed longingly at a block of cheese. Aaron jumped behind the cart with a guilty look on his face. I still don't know what he had been doing.
"From the looks of it, so do you. You run too, eh?" she said.
"I do." I didn't tell her how long I'd been away from one of my favorite hobbies. She didn't need to know my garbage; today was a day for her to purge her own.
"How far?"
"I'm injured now, but my favorite long run is 10 miles." I heard the wistfulness in my own voice. Seriously. I knew the moment I uttered the words the woman would think I was barmy.
"Oh lord," the woman let out a low whistle. "I'm not a runner like that. If I can go two miles, I'm lucky."
"You could be, if you wanted to be," I said. "I started out with a mile and built my way up."
"You did?" Her eyebrows lifted up on her forehead, again.
"I sure did. No joke."
The woman paused, a genuine smile pasted to her face. "Well, thank you," the woman said. "I guess I'll get this yogurt right here. If I can get these bowels going, then I'll start to feel better. And that will take some of the stress away right there, you know?"
"I do know." I nodded and grabbed a couple of containers myself. "I know how I feel when I'm bloated," I said. "It's no fun."
"That, it isn't," the woman replied. "And maybe I'll set my sights on my running again. That should help, too." She took a quick assessment of her own kids and then glanced back my way. "So many things to think about when we're moms, you know?"
"Yep." I glanced at my watch. I really needed to move, and soon. We had other places to be that day. "Well, good luck with everything. You have a great day."
"You, too," the woman replied.
We smiled one last time at one another, and parted ways. I grasped the handles of the grocery cart, turned it up the corridor, and moved it along the next aisle. The kids trailed behind me.
"Who was that?" one of them asked.
"I'm not sure. I just met her."
"And you were talking about poop? In a grocery store?"
They had a point, a very good point. The woman and I had discussed, albeit briefly and in a very innocuous way, a topic I always tell them to keep away from the dinner table. And here I was talking to a complete stranger about it?
"It's different, kids. It's just that..." I turned to see four pairs of eyes, wide and round, waiting for an explanation for why I could talk about poop in a grocery store and they couldn't. I didn't have the energy in me to explain the difference. Not then. After I'd discussed the issue with a complete stranger and didn't feel funny about it at all.
"Cupcakes," I said. "Who wants to buy cupcakes?"
Someday, they'll understand the feeling of camaraderie I experienced that day in the Kroger on Dorothy Lane. Someday, they'll know that when it comes to motherhood, there are a multitude of different experiences, but many of them bond us together--bowel movements being only one of them. And someday, they might even realize that this bonding moment dealt with so much more than just poop.
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