**Profanity warning. I apologize. I could not remove it, for fear of actually saying it out loud.*
Today began with the following Facebook post:
Mom Log 11.13.15
3:30am Child 2 wakes me up. He has a tummy ache.
3:40 Child 2 falls asleep.
3:41-4:29 I lay in bed thinking of all the reasons his tummy might hurt.
4:30 I get up and check to make sure he is soundly sleeping -he is.
4:31 I get out homework. Might as well be productive if my eyes are open
Now I am at school, working on homework in this little-used (or maybe just less-used as it is off the beaten path) nook for studying.
And I am annoyed because there are people talking. I know, I know – take a pill, right? But up until I opened this blog up – I WAS working. Finally into the groove, powering through one assignment of a thousand.
I must be honest, the two talking are not the reason I opened up the Mom blog or the real reason I am annoyed. It is the other student. The blonde with perfect teeth (that her parents probably spent a fortune supplying braces for), hair sloppily thrown into a pony tail (because she has not a care in the world) , black rimmed glasses (once again… parents!), spotless Nike shoes with her matching sweatpants and hoody(dolla bills anyone?). Ear buds are barely visible, but the new Iphone (money, money, money, $!) is placed on the table in front of her. I would not have even lifted my head except the phone call she was on – she decided to share with A L L of us. TALKING AND SIGHING INCREDIBLY LOUD. To her Mother.
I don’t know
I guess I’m fine.
I’m F I I I I N E.
What do you want me to say?
After five minutes of variations on the above sentences, I nearly lost my grip on reality. In a complete McBeal Moment, I envisioned myself walking over and pulling the earbuds from her ears, then hissing
“THAT is the women who pushed you out of her VAGINA – have some fucking respect!”
Then walking away indignantly.
But in real life she probably has campus police on speed dial or can google it faster than my clumsy self could gather all my shit (especially since my entire bag is spread from one side of my table to the other).
Now I am sitting here, uncertain if I should be begging Karma to do her thing and kick that girl in the ass
just hope to God above my own daughters never talk to me that way.
(to all the Mother’s of older girls, please refrain from commenting – I would like to naively swim through the water sidewalks of my make-believe little world for a few more years before facing reality, thank you.)