My life is so completely unpredictable. When I think my day is going to be normal, I wind up writing about a girl who messed herself at a convenient store. When I wake up and purposefully look for something to
bitch write about, absolutely nothing happens. Unless you can come up with a brilliant way to write about me dumping cayenne pepper up my nose in an attempt to keep the pup away from my Licorice Ivy.
Yeah, I wasn’t able to stretch that story either.
So here is my thing. My days are mundane, at best, and every once in a while I come across an “oh goody” moment and can hardly contain my excitement while I share my karma with you all. When I go through a dry spell (like now), I literally second guess this whole blog thing. I don’t have a popular blog. I don’t do giveaways, and I don’t have a gimmick and I rarely keep up with pop-culture, news or anything that requires my full attention.
Yes, those are violins playing in the background.
Let’s move on shall we?
So in this process of over-analyzing my lack of ‘fun’, I came across a thought. Don’t worry, I’m OK. It didn’t hurt at all.
I’m an observer. I love to people watch and I quite enjoy having fake conversations in my head if I were to ever confront the clueless peeps that I have had the pure pleasure of viewing.
Last week I took my son and nephew to the water park with my girlfriend and her kids. If you ever want to know what kind of parent you are, or if you simply want to evaluate your parental behavior, take your kids to a packed clusterfuck of a theme/water/amusement park and sit back and watch the different walks of life that roam the athletes foot infested pavement.
I realized last week that I am most certainly, either a sufferer of OCD, or other parents just make me look that way. I stress, probably more than any parent should, but funny, laid back Spanky takes a back seat when it comes to my kids safety and ‘Drill Sergeant Debbie’ appears. All of a sudden I’m dumping sun block all over my kid, force-feeding him water, giving not one, not two, not three, but FIVE “in case of emergency” options and yet I still don’t feel like he’s safe. As he’s anxious to get in line for the rides I yell at the top of my lungs, “Remember where to check in at and STAY TOGETHER!!! Don’t run! Wait! Come back, I didn’t sun block your toes!!!” At this time my girlfriend cuts the umbilical cord and tells me to chill the fuck out. All of these thoughts rush through my mind of, “What if he slips and falls and breaks his neck?” “What if some older kid bully’s him?”. Ugh the torture! I want him to be a kid and experience the park on his own without being tethered to my hip, but at the same time, I freak out thinking he’s going to injure himself if I’m not right there to warn him of the water-soaked stairs and cement.
Too much? Ok. My bad. I’m really not that bad. You’re right, I’m a horrible liar. But compared to the lady that I’m about to introduce you to, I’m a fricken saint!
She-devil claimed a couple of chairs behind us. Her two small children would be spending the day in the ‘Kiddie Cove’ and her oldest child, a boy, was there with his friend. I saw the older boy take out the sunscreen and start applying it to his little brother and sister. Mom was texting. The boy then took the sunscreen and poured a dapple into the palm of his hand. Mom smacked the back of his hand and the sunscreen went flying and she snapped at him, “That is for your little brother and sister! Older kids don’t get sunburned! You don’t fucking need it! Don’t waste my fucking money!”
I was scared. Really scared at this point. My filter always breaks in moments of crisis like this and my mouth regurgitates things that are completely none of my business. Mom went back to texting and said to her son and his friend, “Go take your brother and sister to the kid pool, you can play later.”
I felt it boiling. It was creeping up my throat like bad milk. I knew exactly what I wanted to say. I had it all planned out in my head. It was going to be verbal gymnastics preceded by a drum role! I opened my mouth and right on cue my girlfriend says, “Let’s go down a few slides with [her daughter] Katie!” I wanted nothing more than to catch up with my son, but my adrenaline was boiling. I wanted to give Satan’s Spawn that bore 3 innocent children a piece of my mind. She needed to hear all about my views on her theory that “older kids don’t get sunburned”. Please! Please let me tell this piece of shit off! Please, I’ll be the best Mom EVER if you just let me have 2 minutes alone with her. Please!
Nope. Karma likes me way too much. The powers that be (my friend) snatched me away from the possible crime scene and forced me to have fun.
My intention that day was to let the boys do their thing and I was going to relax and get some sun. So not the case. Fat Ass Franny and her bad attitude and ridiculous theory that her kid doesn’t need sun screen totally screwed that up for me.
I caught up with my son, after taking a chill pill, and realized that I don’t want his water park experience to be associated with his crazed out Mom. Nor, did I ever want to be that Mom that I just had the pure displeasure of seeing. I did not act my age for the remainder of the day. I channeled my best 10 year-old and acted completely inappropriate for 5 hours.
Avoiding my claimed chair, I focused on trying to master the tubes that are provided for the water slides. Total fail by the way. Managing to face plant in one, ass-plant in another, completely by-pass the third (because I fell off of it) and ride down the slide without a raft or tube. That’s how I
I purchased an inconceivable amount of ice-cream for the kids and on the ride home we jammed out to teeny-bopper music at a volume that screams ‘headache’ with the windows rolled down.
I may have my moments of craziness, I may be a bit controlling and I may have an excessive amount of worry bred into me, but after seeing Franny single-handedly take the award for “Bitch of The Year”, I opted to re-evaluate my high blood pressure and for the time being, just be a ‘Cool Mom’.