Poor People

I am writing this using my phone in the local WIC office. If you didn't already know, it's a government program designed to improve the nutrition of lower income women, infants, and children.  Oh wait, that means you're reading a blog written by (gasp) a poor person.  I love the way people look at me differently when they realize I'm a member lower class.  Poor people aren't supposed to be literate, are they?  We're all supposed to be a bunch of horrible, uneducated parents who dress our children in rags while we buy and sell drugs, get our nails done, drive Escalades, and collect welfare checks.  We're supposed to take advantage of the system and put our kids in daycare even though we're all a bunch of Peg Bundy-esque couch potatoes who have never worked a day in their lives. This may be true for some of us.

The truth is, I'm kind of smart.  I might not have a PhD, but I went to community college, own a home, drive a Taurus (named Boris), and I've never used the TANF system.  My kids might wear rags, but it's only because I choose my battles when they'd rather wear an old and dirty Spiderman costume than the nicer stuff I got from a consignment sale or with gift cards I earned for surveys.  I've always worked, sometimes two full time jobs at once, and was back at work within a couple of days after giving birth to my last two children, baby in a Moby carrier while I packed orders for my ebay store.  Hell, I don't even have cable TV and the thought of fake nails or daycare makes me feel a little queasy.

I've veered off topic again, haven't I?  The WIC system was started with good intentions.  I took advantage of a free breastfeeding class while pregnant with my oldest child.  I was 22 and had never been around breastfeeding, but I knew it was best and wouldn't do anything else.  I was completely clueless and was the only person in attendance.  I learned so much about breastfeeding and how boobs work.  I probably wouldn't have been successful if it weren't for that wonderful, patient teacher.  For years, I thought about going back and thanking her, but I had since moved and couldn't remember her name.  A few years later, our WIC office got a new nutritionist that seemed vaguely familiar.  I knew I had seen her or heard her voice before, but I'm no good with names or faces.  I finally noticed the plaque on her wall from my former county and it clicked.  She had been the teacher! 

Today looks like a slow day, but sometimes this place is has so many examples of bad parenting. Sure, let's fill a sippy cup with Mountain Dew, encourage the kid to drink it, and then hit him for acting like a kid high on a caffeine/sugar/chemical kick. That sounds like a GREAT idea!  Then we can jerk them up by one arm when we're called because we're too busy talking on the phone to pick them up properly.  Let's leave the baby screaming in an infant seat while we text.  Don't get me started on infant seats. That's a whole 'nother rant.  Let's show up and demand to be seen, even though we don't have an appointment or we missed ours by an hour.  I wonder if the WIC employees ever want to hand out vouchers for sour milk.  I know I would.