It's 10:30pm on Monday night and I feel like I've done absolutely everything and positively nothing.
By everything I mean shuffled the glorious gremlins from one place to the next, did some groceries, helped to keep Quebec from becoming the circumsized foreskin of Canada by voting for a party that won't waste our tax dollars trying to get another shot at separation. I claimed my engagement ring back from Gutsy who was using it as some kind of Teen Titans power weapon. I fed Spawnling some peas to go with his booby. I saved Intrepid from near-death-by-pummeling when I dragged him to playgroup this morning (he makes a great target for younger children while crawling through tunnels, apparently. Kick 'em when they're down and all that.)
Busy, right? But what else did I do? Playgroup, a visit from The Sister and little brother Hefner. The Sister made dinner, helped a great deal with the gremlins and kept logging me out of Facebook to check her account (wench). I drank coffee at playgroup and I drank coffee at home. I watched a lot of the Food Network. I ate some Whoppers. I watched the rest of The Holiday and an episode of Grey's Anatomy.
While doing all of this, I did no laundry, only one load of dishes instead of two and whined that I don't yet have a spring coat.
Pfft. Way to go, Maven. Very productive day you had there.
But wait, there was more! I made breakfast plans for tomorrow with Jobthingy. She likes breakfast and her life resembles a big naughty puppy pile right now, so I figured she could use some Maven time. Everyone needs Maven time, right? It's just difficult to get because I'm so damn busy.
Or not really busy.
Or confused. Yes. Definitely confused.
What else did I do today? I rolled up the rim to win a coffee at Tim Hortons! I also ate a breakfast sandwich on my way to dropping Gutsy off at I-Hate-School. Then, between I-Hate-School-dropping-off and playgroup-going, I was drenched in a torrential downpour. The gods smote me because I was too stylish for them. For you see, I was also sporting my brand new shoes.
It's true! I may not have a coat, but I do have new shoes. First time in about three years that I bought myself some. They're funky, but not too young. Casual, but hip.
None of that matters, however. The two pre-requisites I had in my shoe-buying excursion were:
A) That it was brown.
B) That, for the love of all things right and holy and time-saving, it not have any laces. Please, no laces. I don't care how beautiful they are, how inexpensive they may be, or how hot the sales guy is who puts them on my size 9 wide, hardly dainty feet. If they have laces, I don't want them. Screw off, time wasting laces. I have three children and no time for you and your ankle-supporting ways.
I dragged Geekster all over the mall on Saturday while The Sister had the older two gremz. (Note how I spelled it 'mall' and not 'maul' this time. That would be because it was a relaxed, easy shopping experience where we were able to stroll. Not dash, but saunter. Not sprint, but meander. I am the thesaurus queen and I will turn the heads of any english majors out there. Booyakah!) We went to every shoe store we could get to, despite the fact that the three storey mall had one out of three elevators working and whole slew of frustrated, stroller-pushing parents.
Do you know how difficult it is to be on the second floor when only one elevator is working? VERY. So difficult that it becomes much easier to take the baby out of the stroller and hold him as you, your husband and the now empty stroller descent the escalator. I know it's not recommended, but desperate measures call for desperate times.
Speaking of desperate measures, I was ready to go on the war path today. A very upset friend called this afternoon with a story that blew even my I've-seen-everything-you-don't-want-to-see mind.
Apparently she and her two children went out for coffee with a friend. Her three-year-old boy was doing what three-year-old boys do. He sat down long enough to eat his donut and then proceeded to climb his chair, hide under the table and do a little exploring. Nothing too adventurous; the place was fairly empty anyway and nobody seemed to mind. He wasn't out of control - and believe me, I know "out of control" as I have the genetics to create those who exude it.
Nobody seemed to mind his preschooler ways except for an older man sitting in the restaurant.
As they got up to leave, the man said one of the most horrible things I've ever heard to my dear friend. He told her 'Well, so much for abortions.'
I shall give you a moment to be equally mortified and incredibly stunned.
...
...
Have you had your moment yet? No matter how long you have it just doesn't get easier to read, does it?
My friend didn't quite hear what he had said. But her friend had and let her know once they were out of the establishment. She was livid and rightfully ready to bash his face in. However, she's a mom first and decided making a scene in front of her children would be far worse than letting it go.
I'm glad it was her and not me. I'm glad I wasn't there, because I was ready to jump through the phone into her livingroom, run out to the coffee shop this man was in, bend him over and remove whatever he put up his stinky hole.
People can be stupid. We know that. You know that for sure because you read my blog and I know that for sure because I am me and I do stupid things sometimes.
People can be cruel, too. They can think horrible things and even whisper them to others so the fat lady in the tassled mumu doesn't hear them giggling about her fast food order.
People can be spontaneous. Heck, I signed a one-year lease with Geekster after having known him for a whole month. Not the smartest thing I've ever done, but it all worked out. I mean, I got a laptop, right? That's spontaneous but true love in pretty silver packaging if I've ever seen it.
But being stupid, cruel and spontaneous at once can lead to disaster. And the disaster here was a bitter, old man spewing hateful things at a beautiful mom with incredible kids. One of my very best friends with a heart of gold who lives and breathes for her boys. Her amazing little boys with sweet faces and lovely personalities who were very much wanted and are loved to pieces by anyone who knows them.
The world is full of idiots like him. I've dealt with them, too. The people who hate children because they secretly hate themselves. They're hyper focused on how the world owes them something. How everyone should bend to their will, even little kids. How dare people laugh or play around this man when he's trying to ignore the stick up his bum? How dare people take their little ones into a place where sweets are served in the middle of the day when he's there? Didn't the staff forget to put the sign up? "BITCHY CHILD-HATER INSIDE. OVER 18 ONLY."
I'm normally a pacifist. I like to empathize with the aggressor. Maybe Abortion Man has no family. Or maybe his sons want nothing to do with his grizzly behavior. Maybe he drinks too much and his head hurts and kids are useless to him because they can't buy him more liquor. Maybe he has 45 illegitimate children of his own and the only thing he can afford after child support is one cheap coffee every month.
Or maybe he's an ass and he deserves to have his once-a-month coffee poured over his happy parts if my friend ever points him out to me.
I have no tolerance for nasty people. Unless they're me, because all my nastiness is justified.
I tried to tell my friend that everything is going to be ok. That she has the right to be angry for a while, but that eventually she'll come to realize that he had no right to say that to her and that his hatred will simply eat him up alive without any retaliation necessary.
Besides, I said. I have new shoes. And when The Maven has snazzy footware, the entire world is a brighter place.
Coffee and hugs tomorrow, my friend.
And a shout-out to Lushgurl, whom I will call tomorrow afternoon now that my phones are working again. Horray!!
By everything I mean shuffled the glorious gremlins from one place to the next, did some groceries, helped to keep Quebec from becoming the circumsized foreskin of Canada by voting for a party that won't waste our tax dollars trying to get another shot at separation. I claimed my engagement ring back from Gutsy who was using it as some kind of Teen Titans power weapon. I fed Spawnling some peas to go with his booby. I saved Intrepid from near-death-by-pummeling when I dragged him to playgroup this morning (he makes a great target for younger children while crawling through tunnels, apparently. Kick 'em when they're down and all that.)
Busy, right? But what else did I do? Playgroup, a visit from The Sister and little brother Hefner. The Sister made dinner, helped a great deal with the gremlins and kept logging me out of Facebook to check her account (wench). I drank coffee at playgroup and I drank coffee at home. I watched a lot of the Food Network. I ate some Whoppers. I watched the rest of The Holiday and an episode of Grey's Anatomy.
While doing all of this, I did no laundry, only one load of dishes instead of two and whined that I don't yet have a spring coat.
Pfft. Way to go, Maven. Very productive day you had there.
But wait, there was more! I made breakfast plans for tomorrow with Jobthingy. She likes breakfast and her life resembles a big naughty puppy pile right now, so I figured she could use some Maven time. Everyone needs Maven time, right? It's just difficult to get because I'm so damn busy.
Or not really busy.
Or confused. Yes. Definitely confused.
What else did I do today? I rolled up the rim to win a coffee at Tim Hortons! I also ate a breakfast sandwich on my way to dropping Gutsy off at I-Hate-School. Then, between I-Hate-School-dropping-off and playgroup-going, I was drenched in a torrential downpour. The gods smote me because I was too stylish for them. For you see, I was also sporting my brand new shoes.
It's true! I may not have a coat, but I do have new shoes. First time in about three years that I bought myself some. They're funky, but not too young. Casual, but hip.
None of that matters, however. The two pre-requisites I had in my shoe-buying excursion were:
A) That it was brown.
B) That, for the love of all things right and holy and time-saving, it not have any laces. Please, no laces. I don't care how beautiful they are, how inexpensive they may be, or how hot the sales guy is who puts them on my size 9 wide, hardly dainty feet. If they have laces, I don't want them. Screw off, time wasting laces. I have three children and no time for you and your ankle-supporting ways.
I dragged Geekster all over the mall on Saturday while The Sister had the older two gremz. (Note how I spelled it 'mall' and not 'maul' this time. That would be because it was a relaxed, easy shopping experience where we were able to stroll. Not dash, but saunter. Not sprint, but meander. I am the thesaurus queen and I will turn the heads of any english majors out there. Booyakah!) We went to every shoe store we could get to, despite the fact that the three storey mall had one out of three elevators working and whole slew of frustrated, stroller-pushing parents.
Do you know how difficult it is to be on the second floor when only one elevator is working? VERY. So difficult that it becomes much easier to take the baby out of the stroller and hold him as you, your husband and the now empty stroller descent the escalator. I know it's not recommended, but desperate measures call for desperate times.
Speaking of desperate measures, I was ready to go on the war path today. A very upset friend called this afternoon with a story that blew even my I've-seen-everything-you-don't-want-to-see mind.
Apparently she and her two children went out for coffee with a friend. Her three-year-old boy was doing what three-year-old boys do. He sat down long enough to eat his donut and then proceeded to climb his chair, hide under the table and do a little exploring. Nothing too adventurous; the place was fairly empty anyway and nobody seemed to mind. He wasn't out of control - and believe me, I know "out of control" as I have the genetics to create those who exude it.
Nobody seemed to mind his preschooler ways except for an older man sitting in the restaurant.
As they got up to leave, the man said one of the most horrible things I've ever heard to my dear friend. He told her 'Well, so much for abortions.'
I shall give you a moment to be equally mortified and incredibly stunned.
...
...
Have you had your moment yet? No matter how long you have it just doesn't get easier to read, does it?
My friend didn't quite hear what he had said. But her friend had and let her know once they were out of the establishment. She was livid and rightfully ready to bash his face in. However, she's a mom first and decided making a scene in front of her children would be far worse than letting it go.
I'm glad it was her and not me. I'm glad I wasn't there, because I was ready to jump through the phone into her livingroom, run out to the coffee shop this man was in, bend him over and remove whatever he put up his stinky hole.
People can be stupid. We know that. You know that for sure because you read my blog and I know that for sure because I am me and I do stupid things sometimes.
People can be cruel, too. They can think horrible things and even whisper them to others so the fat lady in the tassled mumu doesn't hear them giggling about her fast food order.
People can be spontaneous. Heck, I signed a one-year lease with Geekster after having known him for a whole month. Not the smartest thing I've ever done, but it all worked out. I mean, I got a laptop, right? That's spontaneous but true love in pretty silver packaging if I've ever seen it.
But being stupid, cruel and spontaneous at once can lead to disaster. And the disaster here was a bitter, old man spewing hateful things at a beautiful mom with incredible kids. One of my very best friends with a heart of gold who lives and breathes for her boys. Her amazing little boys with sweet faces and lovely personalities who were very much wanted and are loved to pieces by anyone who knows them.
The world is full of idiots like him. I've dealt with them, too. The people who hate children because they secretly hate themselves. They're hyper focused on how the world owes them something. How everyone should bend to their will, even little kids. How dare people laugh or play around this man when he's trying to ignore the stick up his bum? How dare people take their little ones into a place where sweets are served in the middle of the day when he's there? Didn't the staff forget to put the sign up? "BITCHY CHILD-HATER INSIDE. OVER 18 ONLY."
I'm normally a pacifist. I like to empathize with the aggressor. Maybe Abortion Man has no family. Or maybe his sons want nothing to do with his grizzly behavior. Maybe he drinks too much and his head hurts and kids are useless to him because they can't buy him more liquor. Maybe he has 45 illegitimate children of his own and the only thing he can afford after child support is one cheap coffee every month.
Or maybe he's an ass and he deserves to have his once-a-month coffee poured over his happy parts if my friend ever points him out to me.
I have no tolerance for nasty people. Unless they're me, because all my nastiness is justified.
I tried to tell my friend that everything is going to be ok. That she has the right to be angry for a while, but that eventually she'll come to realize that he had no right to say that to her and that his hatred will simply eat him up alive without any retaliation necessary.
Besides, I said. I have new shoes. And when The Maven has snazzy footware, the entire world is a brighter place.
Coffee and hugs tomorrow, my friend.
And a shout-out to Lushgurl, whom I will call tomorrow afternoon now that my phones are working again. Horray!!