Dear Lady I Don’t Know:
Oh, hi. You probably can’t hear me over the screaming toddler in this stroller. Did you spring yourself without your children from the jail called home? Good for you! Or, do you not have children? I see kid stuff in your cart, so probably you do. Or, does it just pain you and make you frown that hard when you hear a child cry regardless of reason or a parent’s attempts to calm him? I get it. I get that you probably left home hoping to avoid this scene. You probably left home because of the screams in your own home. I get that you have tried to just move away from us, move on to something else on your list. I also get that you can still hear my child screaming nine aisles over. You should buy headphones. Also, avert your eyes because you roll em, I swole em. Swole has never been a word other than on every playground since the invention of the blacktop.
Listen, sometimes kids act their age and there’s nothing we can do to change it. Today, in this Target, my two-year-old is decidedly neck deep in his twoness. I have not hit him. I have not taken something from him. I have not walked by the toy aisle pretending he has suddenly been struck blind and can’t see the toys (or that he has suddenly lost the sense of smell because I’m telling you, toddlers can SMELL ALL THE TOYS). I have not told him no about something. I have not accidentally rammed the cart into a display hard enough to snap his head back (today). He has eaten and he is dry. Sometimes? He’s just two.
Your judgy, rolly, glarey eyes mean nothing to me. Believe me, if I can listen to him scream like this and not react, your eyes ain’t penetrating nothin’.
Your smirky mouth twisted up all smirkily? Yeah, no effect, sorry. I almost want to laugh at you thinking that your smirk is going to make me abandon my absolute need to get Simply Lemonade at nearly $1 less than in the grocery store.
Your exasperated sigh doesn’t even register on my Quick, Get Your Kid Out of Here; You’re Embarrassing All the Black People Meter.
Then there’s your dramatic, blinkless stare. Suddenly, stranger lady, we are locked in a heated eye battle. You are daring me to look away. I cannot look away because then you’d think I give a shit about your staring at me. You want me to respond to this child but I have to keep staring so that I win the unspoken you blinked first game. And guess what? It’s just gonna get worse because if I continue to ignore him, if I continue to pretend as though I can’t hear him screaming about or for whatever the hell it is he is screaming about or for, HE WILL LOSE HIS SHIT. Oh, it’s going to be so much fun for you. You’re welcome!
I know you’re wondering why I’m ignoring him. I’m not; you are! Why won’t you help this crying boy? Look at his face. He needs three tissues: one for his eyes, one for his nose/mouth region, and one to clutch like a pained old man at a funeral. You are failing the youth of today with your inaction.
I think that you think that I am enjoying his screaming. Do you? I mean, this boy is hollering like I have him suspended upside down on a clothesline with just one clothespin keeping him on. By his penis. So yes, I’m enjoying this (if today were opposite day!). There is nothing wrong with him. I just determined through his hyperventilating sobs that he is screaming because he wants out of the stroller. But I am in no mood to chase him from aisle to aisle as he threatens to knock over all the tampons. I’m sure you have multiple suggestions on what I could have done differently, or what I could do now to make you check the I Had A Pleasant Scream-Free Time box on your imaginary Target shopping experience rating card. I don’t need your advice or your eye rolls. I don’t need to overhear your exaggerated attempt at whispering into your phone, “It’s like Bebe’s kids up in here.”
Look, lady. Normally, I really would leave. Normally, I would scoop this boy up, hug him, offer him something totally inappropriate like salt and vinegar chips because he likes them. I would stroke his head and wait for him to calm. I just might carry him then, have one of the girls push his stroller. But today? Today sucked. If I could quit my job and not have to resort to working the pole, albeit boobless and likely making no money because of it, I would. But, I can’t. And we need the remaining school supplies tonight. And I’m too tired to take them home and come back. And I’m hungry and thirsty, and I have to pee. Today, I’m giving myself a pass. I never give myself a pass, not when it comes to irritating other people. So, even as this boy screams and snot is glistening his entire face because he has smeared snot all over his face OMG WHERE ARE THE TISSUE, I am allowing myself to annoy you and everyone from the card aisle to electronics because sometimes two-year-olds are assholes. Just like you.
AWESOME!
I love this!
Arnebya,
Even when you’re angry and you’re making a fabulous point and you’re pissy, you still make me LMFAO! “Swole”….everyone knows that one, to knocking over the tampons and finally, pole dancing! You are a riot, girl! And yes, two year olds can be assholes but not nearly as big and bad as the grownup versions. And like you ever would be wanting or enjoying this behavior. NOT!!!
Thanks, Gina. It’s funny. Even when I try to be serious it won’t come out that way when I write about it. And I was genuinely angry with that lady.
Exactly.
I’ve never been the stare/roll my eyes/offer snide comments kind of person, but I have been the pat myself on the back because my kid never behaves that way kind of person… until he did. I took him one afternoon to Wal-mart and he screamed and cried from the time I pushed my way through the front door until I loaded him back into the car. I was in there for awhile. I got a lot of looks. I gave a lot of looks back. That’s probably why not one person chose to comment on his behavior. And it is why will will never be the pat myself on the back parent ever again.
Probably before I had kids I did roll my eyes at parents whose kids were acting a fool. I think once I had the girls I was still pretty comfortably (although stupidly) entrenched in the belief that my kids don’t tantrum. Well, neither of my girls ever did. Not once. They would whine for something but the full-on I’m throwing myself down inside the automatic doors of Harris Teeter? Nope, never happened. This boy is teaching me that none of us can really pat our backs because each kid is different.
Love this. Every parent has been there…which is why I don’t get the people who like to judge.
Laughed hard at this: Your smirky mouth twisted up all smirkily?
Give yourself a pass, totally. Mama always said and all that, dude.
And now I’m singing that song, Rita. OK, no, I’m singing the chorus because I can’t remember any of the other words.
I love that you wrote this, got it all out there, and reminded all of us {me!} to just not do this ever.
{I also love the funny, but that’s a given, right?}
Well done, mama!
Thanks, Galit! Truth be told, I sometimes have to remind myself that this happened when I hear other kids flipping out.
Oh. My. God. Miss D. threw a fit in a SuperTarget that almost rivaled the time she bit Santa at the MegaMall. I think all mamas who have to lug their kids to the store deserve a free pass.
I should make passes and hand them out to the parents who refuse to leave the store without their damn lemonade!
I love this. So love this. And you. AND Simply Lemonade on sale. xoxo
Please don’t accidentally get Simply Limeade.
Hahaha! Love it! I used to let mine run around in his Superman Costume and scream all he wanted! I had to buy food, what else can be done? “Judgy, rolly, glarey eyes” love it! Well said!
Thanks, Lu; my oldest used to be a fairy in Safeway. Every time.
Soooo…who blinked first? I suck at that game.
I am a master of the deadpan, having perfected it in high school (just ask my mama). She not only looked away first, she turned and went the other way.
“Your judgy, rolly, glarey eyes mean nothing to me. Believe me, if I can listen to him scream like this and not react, your eyes ain’t penetrating nothin’.”
When you write things like this I blog-world LOVE YOU . Not in an icky stalker-troll way but in a ‘we moms are all on the same team and I understand you and you understand me thank-god-I’m-not-alone kind of way’.
I know I just broke all kinds of grammar rules in one sentence, but THAT’s how much I love the way you think.
We are never alone.
This post just MADE MY DAY. You basically just validated my whole existence. I know there are many many mothers with 2 yr olds, but sometimes I feel like mine is the only one who has occasional marathon temper tantrums. I know there are many mothers with sassy 6 yr olds, but sometimes I feel like mine is on a personal mission to disagree/challenge everything I say. And I know there are many mothers with obnoxious 10 yr old boys, but sometimes I feel like I’m the only one who gets a call from school at least once a week saying that my child is disrupting the class. And more than sometimes, I pretend not to notice the stares and the smirkiness we get in public when one of the kids decides to “act their age” with no regard for social norms or their mom’s desire to appear to be in control. Because underneath my exhaustion, my discomfort and my likely sweatiness, the truth is that I simply don’t have the capacity to care.
This is absolutely right. Maintaining our sanity and getting the things done that need to be done are way more important than caring about what others think. Yes, we probably will still notice their smirks but it’s gonna take a whole lot more to make us actually care. If my kid is not outright poking you in the eye, please avert your eyes.
I could actually hear you voice reading this in my head which made it even funnier and back-the-fuck-off-ier.
I will steal back-the-fuck-offier, please know this.
Tell it.
What in the world is wrong with people?
She should have SOME manners (like her mama didn’t teach her obvs) and LOOK AWAY.
Sheesh.
We have all been there! If it’s not in Target it is at Burger King. Who knows what triggers some of these meltdowns but when I need to get my fries on…don’t give me an eye roll either.
Exactly! Whether it’s fries or Simply Lemonade or shoes, whatever I set out to do, he’s going to have to pass out before it takes me off track. And yes, I hate to disrupt people’s enjoyment, but mind you these are public places, not like public yet quiet places like a museum or a movie theatre. (OK, yes, one time I did let him scream in a library but I NEEDED that book).
Amen! And that Simply Lemonade is damned good.
Sometimes I hide it on the top shelf way back behind everything else. Soon the oldest girl will be able to see up there without tiptoeing but until then: back, savages!
Oh, this made me laugh! Love it. Stand tall mama, the judgers will have their day too :)
I used to be that eye roller, smirker, sigher (when I was young and foolish). Then I had kids. And realized, just like you, that sometimes kids throw screaming fits in inappropriate places and we, for whatever reason, don’t give in. Now, when I hear kids going for it, I just try to send a commiserating smile (thinking about it, I REALLY hope it looks commiserating and not glaring, maybe I should practice in front of my mirror) to the parent and maybe a comment to let her (or him) know it doesn’t bother me. Good for you for completing your trip.
And now I’m giggling envisioning you running behind bewildered women yelling “that was a commiserating smile, really!”
I’m nodding and laughing and doing the yep-been-there-done-that giggle but when you got to the last line? About two-year-olds being assholes? I about snapped my head off my neck in agreement. Sometimes (like smirky ladies, husbands, and all other people’s children) kids are just assholes.
We, however, with or without tissues in our bags, are perfect.
I once wiped his nose with my hat. It was cold and windy, and I needed a hat. I put it back on. Whatever. Adapt and let the assholes be assholes. (It seems I never have tissue).