Mean Girls... I Mean, Moms.

I've been meaning to write about this story for the longest time, simply because it's so ridiculous and because I'm so annoyed at myself for not saying anything at the time. It's kind of like an itch I can't scratch, but maybe if I write about it and vent about this oh so horrible woman here, I'll finally be able to put it behind me.

This was during that time when Damon's colic was running my life and I couldn't really think in coherent sentences, much less function. And I must also mention that Christian has so much energy that I make it a point to get him outside every morning. If I don't, he literally goes nuts. And it was no different when Damon was born, so colic newborn or not, I had to get him out. So, anyway, one morning, I took the boys to the nearby sand park in Haile. I strapped Damon to the Bjorn and ran after Christian in an attempt to release some of his energy. And we were actually having a good time. Damon was screaming his head off, but by then, I was kind of numb to it. After a while, I started pushing Christian in the swing and I noticed a group of women sitting on a bench not too far off. They were obviously watching me, but whatever. I kept pushing Christian and didn't think much about them ...until one of the women approached me. She was a beautiful woman and absolutely perfect in her appearance. Hair fixed, makeup flawless, designer clothes and perfectly manicured nails and toes. I hate to admit it, but I was quick to note our differences. I can't even imagine what I must have looked like to her. No makeup, circles bruising the underneath of my eyes, hair up in a jumbled mess, chipped nail polish on my nails, scrubby clothes. I mean, I really was a mess, comparatively. At the time, I felt it was a success that I had a shower that morning.

She regarded me in a cool manner for a few moments, neither smiling nor frowning. Just watching. Her friends were also watching from the bench. Finally, she spoke.

"Is your baby ok?"

"Oh, yeah. He's just got colic. There's nothing I can do for the poor guy. But he should settle down soon."

"Huh. Well, he's been screaming for a pretty long time and you're really disturbing everyone here at the park. You should probably leave." Then, as if on cue, her friends sitting on the bench glared and nodded their agreement.

It took me a second to register what she said, and I just kind of looked at her and her friends. I swear, all you had to do was take the kids away, move us inside next to a wall of lockers and it would have been a scene straight out of "Mean Girls." You know, where the beautiful, perfect popular girls gang up on the less perfect, not so popular girl simply for the sake of being mean. It felt just like that. Only, instead of mean girls, it was mean moms.

And you know what kills me the most? Me! 'Cause you know what I said? NOTHING!!!!! I was so exhausted and so totally shocked, that I took Christian out of the swing and walked him away from the park over to the gazebo.

Now, as some of you know, I am NOT the type of gal to back down from a confrontation if one is needed. I have no problem putting someone in his or her place when it's necessary or standing up for myself, for that matter. But that day, I just walked away without saying a thing. And I am so annoyed at myself for not saying something. Like, "This is a public park, so deal." Or, "Hey lady, you suck!" Clever, I know. (I've never been creative with comebacks) Anyway, that day, I was weak, and I let that lady's perfect appearance and unkind words rattle me. Lame, I know, but it was what it was. And I haven't seen her or her gang at the park since.

It's interesting to me, though, to think about it now. She had her own kids. She must know what it's like to have a crying baby in your arms, and yet... rather than offering a kind word, she kicked me out of the park. And it's not just her. I can't even tell you how many rude or annoyed glances I've gotten from people when I've been out running errand with the boys. I don't pay them any mind, but I still notice.

On the flip side, I can't tell you how lovely it is for a mother to see someone wave "hello" to her little boy who has just learned how to wave his hand in greeting. Or to have someone open the door to a store or pull out a cart at Target so the mother can wrestle her kids into it. Or simply to have someone smile back at her little boy as she hands him back the sippy cup he threw across two aisles. If you are one of those people, please know that I'm grateful for you.

So, that's my story of a mean mom. Someone that I hope I'm never like. And now that I've written it out, I can put it behind me. Unless I actually see her again. Then I'll be happy to recall this memory and give her a piece of my mind... :)