A Greenpoint stroller mom speaks out…
about dog shit.
Just like any other time I go to McCarren Park, I do my best to avoid the stroller set. This isn’t because I hate children (I don’t), rather, I harbor a deep fear of their caretakers. Be they biologically related to the minors in their charge or not, one wrong word on my part could precipitate a beat-down by an angry horde of post-partum depression/fertility drug riven mothers. Or worse yet, a flock of Filipino nannies would proceed to kick my ass.
The latter have become very manifest at McCarren Park of late, enough so that I have to remind myself that I am in Greenpoint, not the Upper East Side. Thankfully the drunken roustabout roundtable still holds court at the northeastern section of the park. They serve as a constant reminder that I am, indeed, in Greenpoint. Unlike most people I find their presence comforting.
hururdsday I had the pleasure of interfacing with a Greenpoint stroller mom. Her daughter made the introduction by pointing at me and shouting:
Mommy, she has red hair!
It is true. I have red hair. But it isn’t the red hair one usually sees on Ireland tourism brochures. Or the Lucille Ball-esque tints the local Polish population here is all too fond of donning. I have Day-Glo Crayola Crayon red hair. Thus, I did not take offense at what this cherubic child said. In fact, I found it amusing.
Me (to the little girl): You have blond hair!
Me (to the mother): You have red hair too!
Mother (to her daughter): Yes, but mommy has to go in for a touch-up soon!
Inasmuch as I bitch about stroller moms, this one didn’t bother me. She harbored a lack of pretense (and Humvee-sized stroller) that I found endearing. The fact that her child was young enough to merit having a stroller in the first place was a big plus.
In my 7+ years of living in Greenpoint I have seen a lot of shit. I have seen teenagers pushing each other down the street in strollers. I have seen women fling their tits out to feed their kids in the weirdest and most abject of places. I have encountered children over two years of age who have yet to be toilet-trained.
While I find all the previous somewhat irksome, what really pisses me off are parents who push their 4,5+ year old children around in strollers. If mommy’s errands are too much for little Kaitlin or Lincoln to bear, hire a fucking babysitter. The children involved and myself would be very grateful if the previous practice was implemented.
Not being a parent myself, I have no idea what ‘logic’ belies shoving over-sized children down the street in a stroller. But if I had to take a guess, I’d say the stroller is merely a temporary residence until these pampered babes’ parents buy them a brand-spanking new condo. From the cradle to blue chip Williamsburg digs (and a new couch mommy picked out just for you), so it goes on planet entitlement.
That said, the previously-mentioned stroller mom did not exhibit any of the previous qualities. What’s more, she and I bonded over our collective hatred of dog shit. After crossing Nassau Avenue (on Lorimer Street), this women saw me take a photo of a smeared pile of shit and said:
Don’t you hate that? I live next door and if I find the person who is responsible for this I am going to kill them.
Shortly thereafter she asked me what I was going to do with my poopie photo. I told her that I was going to put it up on my blog.
And I did.