I love December. Already, our month has been full and festive. Yesterday we watched the Vancouver Santa Claus Parade and the whole family had so much fun.
Then we got to our parking spot, our very small, tight squeeze parking spot.
Putting Brennyn in her car seat, Bal yells out at me. So I pop back out. There is a woman, GLARING at me. She wants into her car beside us. I smile, apologize and start to move out of her way when she grumbles going by me. Obviously saying something pissy to me, or rather, about me.
Smiling sweetly, I say “Sorry, 2 kids here we’ve got to get in.”
Whereby she stops, grimaces some more, and, I kid you not, snarls, “Single people…” fangs coming out, “should NOT have to wait for families.”
I says what? Seriously folks, my jaw dropped until I managed to retort, “Welcome to the World. I hear procreating is good for the species.” Not entirely brilliant or witty but it was what came out in the face of such rudeness.
She said something back in return but I couldn’t hear her over Bal choking, then spitting out “Bitch.”
Which was really not what he should have done or said, especially in front of our children, but seriously, she was SO. A. BITCH.
Anyways, she slams the door, then realizing she can’t see anything, has to roll down the window to back up. I smile again, “Merry Christmas!” laced with only a touch of sarcasm. Okay no, lathered, rubbed and infused with sarcasm. She says something else that I can not hear or understand. Probably for the best. And she squeals away.
I was shaking I was so upset by the occurrence. But my anger was quickly replaced by feeling sad for her. Obviously life is not a happy place for her if she is spouting out such rude things without provocation or reason. Especially doing so in the presence of a baby and young child. Who does that?
So yes, mostly I am just really sad for her. Though can I admit, just between you and me, that I kinda, sorta wish children upon her. Lots of them. Snotty-nosed ones. Over-tired ones. Hungry for a snack ones. (Really are there any other kind?) Then I hope she remembers this day and realizes abruptly, holy BITCH was I, and offers me her own private apology and empathy moment. That’s all I wish.
Unless she’s really like that every day of her life. Then remaining childless is probably a wise choice. So then I instead wish for her eternal ‘luck’ on airplanes at getting the seat directly beside, or in front of, oh, let’s say a free-spirited child. Or two. Or a feisty one. Oh, oh, let there be a sick, sneezing one! Whose mother is a lawyer or comedian or is rested with a good 6 months of 8 hour uninterrupted sleeps so she can totally hold her own against the storm of resentment.
Okay, so apparently I’m not that sorry for her.
Give me another day of fantasizing about witty rebuttals and drop kicking her to the ground, and locking her in a Chucky Cheese…
Then I should be ready to wish her well. Sincerely.