Strangers

I have got to learn to be less neurotically uncomfortable around strangers. Every time Justin and I go out with Roxanne, there are several people who stop us, get close to Roxanne and ask all kinds of questions about her and want to touch her hands or cheeks, and generally freak me out. On a logical level, I certainly understand that they are being friendly, and I should appreciate their attention, since it's also just as often that people look at my baby with the same look that they might make if I had brought a two-weeks-dead raccoon into a restaurant. But somehow, it is just hard for me to respond appropriately. I often take the tactic of avoiding eye contact, acting interested in something on the other side of the room, and pretending to not hear the cooing and "oh, look at the baby." I'm pretty sure this makes me sort of a jerk. Honestly though, sometimes people can really be bizarre. Like the women who asked me at Publix if the bottle I was giving my daughter was breast milk. She said she could tell it was because Roxanne was a "fluffy" baby. She then went on to say that it was best for mama and baby. I sort of nodded and smiled. In my mind, I was still puzzling over her use of the word "fluffy." What does that even mean? Until I figure it out, I have been proudly telling my friends that I have it on good authority that I have a "fluffy" baby.