Sometimes I feel like I would make a better circus performer then a mother. The other day I had both boys, a backpack, a take away bag which consisted of a leftover 1/2 of piece of chocolate cake that I wouldn't let Luke finish and a water bottle with 1/4 cup of banana milk that Theo was interested in, the folded up umbrella stroller and a small bag with 2 new bars of soap for my experiment with dealing with the kids' sensitive skin. We were standing on the side of a midan or round-a-bout (as we used to call them when we lived in MA) waiting for a taxi.
Most taxi drivers are happy to pick up foreigners. Foreigners usually tip generously with metered taxis and over pay with non metered ones. But taxis don't like me, at least not with the kids in tow. Our taxi rides consist of Luke kicking the back of the driver's seat and Theo, either hanging like a monkey from the handles that Americans use to hang up their dry cleaning (for the life of me I can not think of the English name for those things), trying to open the door handle, or screaming at the top of his lungs because I have the death grip hold on him. In Egypt a baby crying is a big crime and I know the drivers must think that I am torturing him. I can't begin to tell you how bad I wish I could car-seat that boy in. However, since the taxis here are lucky to have working seat belts in them at all, it's a lost cause. Not that I could add a car-seat to my load anyway. If Jubilee is in the car she is usually whining about being car sick or telling on Luke for sitting too close to her. I think word has gotten around the taxi community about us and as you can understand, we weren't having much luck catching a taxi. Every taxi driver was taking one look, laughing inside, shaking their heads no and driving by. We waited and waited.
All of the sudden a car pulls up and stops. The man rolled down his window. Is he going to offer me a ride or tell me of a better place to catch a taxi? No, he calls out to me in Arabic "hey, your holding your baby the wrong way. You need to hold him tighter, and in front of you, not on the side." I thought to myself...is he for real, did this man just tell this mother how to hold her baby?
I know people are always trying to be helpful, but at that moment of craziness it didn't matter what language he was speaking, I just couldn't understand why he would stop to tell me that. I finely just decided that maybe he either didn't have children or any idea about how to help a mother in need or dropped one at some point because he wasn't holding them tight enough. I gave my "oh, thank you for the bad advice" smile and nodded and he drove on, but I was puzzled on how to feel about this encounter. Surely he wasn't questioning my mothering abilities. Was he just trying to talk to the "foreign" woman? Should I feel angry or grateful for his concern?
I didn't have to think about it much longer because a taxi driver took pity on me and stopped. I think he thought his taxi was safe because his seats were still all covered with plastic. I laughed inside and we all piled in the car and rode away. I sat in the back wondering what is the best way to handle unwanted advice?
