It's a rookie mom's mistake. Choosing which check-out lane to stand in at the grocery store merely by determining which has the shortest line. If it isn't listed in some parenting book yet, it ought to be...

Rule #1 of Shopping: Never stand in a line behind a woman who is more than ten years older than you and has a kind face. Inevitably, she will notice you, and worse, she will notice your baby.

Now, don't get me wrong. At first, that will seem like a wonderful thing. The woman, who most likely will have thin, streaks of gray through her perfectly styled strawberry blonde hair will say, "Just look at that sweet child. I don't think I've ever seen a more beautiful baby," and she will give you such a sincere smile through her coral lipstick that you will think
about asking her to be your son's godmother.

"Thank you," you will say, and for a second you will forget that your adorable bundle spent three solid hours screaming himself silly before you left for this little jaunt today (never mind the fact that it's not even
noon yet), and you and the woman will spend a moment looking at him with great awe and admiration.

And that's when the well-meaning soul with fingernails painted to match her blouse will ask the dreaded question, "Is he a good baby?"

Note to self: If you're ever in a court of law and get asked a question like this, it is absolutely essential that you plead the fifth. I mean, let's be honest, any way you respond could either be constituted as outright perjury or as undeniable proof that you are one of those mothers, the ones who are outwardly pitied but secretly labeled as a failure for having a difficult
infant.

Much to your shame the only time you could truthfully answer yes to the question, "Is he a good baby?" was the first two days of your son's life, the two days you spent in the hospital. Once you came home and Junior displayed his true colors by working himself into a red-faced rage that tended to last the majority of each day (and sometimes night), you decided he was in reality a con-artist. A bald, toothless con-artist who had duped you into bringing him home to wait on hand and foot for eighteen plus years. (Call it sleep deprivation if you will.)

So thrusting a pacifier in your two-month-old's mouth, which has begun to scrunch up into what you've come to recognize as the precursor to a long, steady wail, you pull the old "look over there" trick on Miss Well-Meaning.  "I think you're next," you say, nodding politely to the open space between the woman and the check out clerk.

If you're lucky this will buy you ten to twenty seconds to collect your thoughts because, let's be honest, you can't tell this woman - someone who's obviously never been exposed to a "colicky," "difficult," "strong-willed" or whatever other label you want to slap on a kid like this - that you wouldn't exactly say he's a "good baby." And when she turns back, you will be prepared to lie through your teeth. "Oh, yes, definitely. Such a good baby. Amazing really. Never gives me a minute's trouble."

And she will inevitably ask the follow up question, "So he sleeps well?"

Now this is the part that can trip you up. Because internally, you're going, Does he sleep well? Let's see. He wakes up five times a night. If I'm lucky, takes three twenty minute power naps during the day, one of which I have to rock him through while he's attached to my breast. And the other two he cries for thirty minutes before finally passing out. But after a slight
pause, you say, "Yes. I think he sleeps pretty well."

And that will be the extent of your conversation. The woman will pay for her groceries, and turn to give you a smile that acknowledges your success at motherhood before making her way gracefully out of the store.

You, on the other hand, will be soaked in sweat, partly due to the adrenaline coursing through your body after telling such a pack of lies and partly due to the fact that you have been swaying from side to side for
several minutes with the little guy in your arms hoping to make him too dizzy to cry. And finally, after waiting the excruciating last minutes as your groceries are scanned and bagged, and your baby does indeed begin to wail, you will be free to go, having navigated a successful morning out.

On your way to the parking lot you will vow 1. to stop eating. That way frivolous errands like grocery shopping can be done away with and 2. to pull
out those bags of M&Ms and Cheetos as soon as you reach the car.

After all, even rookie moms know the value of comfort food.



ANGEL RUTLEDGE is a novelist and freelance writer who lives in Charlotte, NC with her husband and two children. (She refuses to identify which child was
the bald, toothless con-artist.) Angel is presently working on her third novel, a mommy-lit. story about a private investigator turned stay at home mom. Most recently she published an article on: Charlottemommies.com entitled "Good Kindling Wood and Other Uses for Parenting Books."