They say never judge someone until you’ve walked a mile in their shoes… But common’, if we never judged others, we’d have nothing to talk about. And, well, this blog wouldn’t exist. And so… we judge (if only for the sake of this blog, of course!).
You see, recently I’ve come to realize that being a stay-at-home mother is not all that different from the corporate world. And by this I mean, there’s the same bullshit politics involved. Only rather than having to deal with the George Costanzas of the world, it now involves Mama Bears and their cubs… much, much more cut throat!
A few weeks ago, I was at the park with my sister-in-law and my nephew (whom I will refer to as iMan). So iMan was patiently waiting to play on the ‘ship wheel’ which was being occupied by a pretty little blonde thing. Fine n’ dandy, right? That is until Blondie realized someone was waiting to get on the wheel… that’s when she made it clear to us that it was HER wheel, and she would NOT be sharing…
My sister-in-law, being the calm, diplomatic parent she is, said to Blondie that they had to take turns. It was now iMan’s turn, and then it would be her turn again after. Still fine n’ dandy, right? Until…
Blondie turned, put one hand on her hip, the other up in the air… as in “Talk to the Hand”… as in SHUT UP!
Oh… no… she…. didn’t!
Oh… yes… she… did!
So while Blondie continued to boss her way through the sandbox, we’re looking around for Blondie’s mother… Because let’s be honest, Blondie didn’t learn this Diva behaviour on her own. We spot Mommy Dearest… with Chanel glasses (that I want), awesomely killer Louboutin heels, skinny jeans (and man’ did she totally wore them well… Erg!), and talking on her phone… Completely oblivious that I was about to make her Mini-Me eat dirt!
But for iMan’s sake, I kept my mouth shut. It’s all about leading by example, right? Don’t want to teach my nephew that it’s OK to dropkick the skinny bitch Mama AND steal her shoes! In due time, iMan… In due time!!
Well, today I was at the park with my Little Orange Crush. And who do I see? You got it… Blondie! But I figure, my Little Orange Crush is 9 months old, so surely Blondie (who I should mention is about 5 years old) won’t be an issue this time… WRONG! Apparently Blondie just had to go on the infant wobble seat thingie! Infant!
I was holding my little man on the wobble thing, and Blondie runs over and says “It’s my turn now. Mine. Mine. Get him off!”.
*Play nice, Red Whino… Play nice!*
One minute. Two minutes. Three minutes. (I’ll have you know she didn’t even fit IN the seat, she just pushed it while standing). Four minutes… My patience were wearing thin. After 5 minutes, I told her that she’s had her turn, and it’s now our turn.
Her reply? “It’s mine until I’m done with it!”
OH… MY… GAWD!!!
My head starts spinning like Emily in The Exorcist… WHERE IS THIS KID’S MOTHER?!?! Oh, look at that! Mommy Dearest is sitting on the bench way over there talking on her phone… Judgy, judgy, cause I’m never EVER on my phone when I parent *cough*. I calmly make my way over and ask if she would mind putting her social life on hold for a minute to discuss her daughter’s attitude problem. Well, not in so many words… I was very diplomatic actually. Really!
Mommy Dearest’s response? Laughing… “Oh, there’s no point in trying to tell her anything. It’s her castle, and she’s the Princess…”. More laughing… Then back to her call…
Really? I could eat a bowl of Alphaghetties and shit out a better answer than that!
I ask her again – still with my manners intact! She rolls her eyes at me. She’s now annoyed that I’m interrupting her 1-800-IMA-SLUT call!
My mean-girl hamster wheel is starting to spin, and fast! You see once, a very wise man named Norm, from a little show called Cheers, spoke words that I’ve come to live by: “It’s a dog-eat-dog world out there… and I’m wearing milk bone underwear!” In other words, suck it…
Now I realize Blondie is only a child – a nasty-ass one – but a child nonetheless… But Mommy Dearest? She’s fair game, y’all!
“Awww… You seem to be suffering from a bad case of Total Bitch syndrome. Here, let me prescribe you with a heavy dose of “GET UP AND DO SOMETHING ABOUT YOUR CHILD!”
She ended her call, and wobbled her way over in her kick-ass Louboutins to rescue her Princess from the big evil Queen!
As I drove home, I regretted my actions. I didn’t feel good about what I’d said to Mommy Dearest… Because sometimes words have no meaning. So what I should have done was punched her in the throat, ripped her Louboutins right off her perfectly-pedicured feet, and then shoved them so far up her *rock solid* ass, giving her a taste of her own daughter’s medicine! MINE! MINE! MINE! Red sole… Red soul!
So moral of the story is that, sure, wearing Chanel sunglasses or Louboutins does not make you a bad mother. But knowingly ignoring your child’s bad behaviour DOES! And while I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt, my judgement of her was spot-on… Bitchy mom!
And while figuratively speaking, I would not want to walk a mile in her shoes… literally speaking, I wouldn’t mind taking those Louboutins for just a wee stroll! And maybe have her skinny-ass jeans to boot…
Got any nightmare mommy stories? Oh, please do share…
Cheers, Red Whino