Monday, February 16, 2009

I'm not the woman I thought I was- or whatever that means

So- today I'm at the grocery with two of my three. The grocery. yuck. All I needed was milk and creamer (because I have to have creamer with coffee, and I have to have coffee in the morning. the end). So of course I filled the cart and spent a fortune. Because that's what you do at the grocery, regardless of what you go in for.

I forgot bananas. I had patiently waited in the self check out lines as Emily diligently tried to scan our items and Sam continually climbed onto the scale- which required the service attendant to reset the 'alarm' every.single.time. Sam, get off the scale, Sam, get off the scale, Sam, get off the scale. I am like a broken freakin record. Uhggg. So bananas, not me- the fruit. Back we go.

It is there that a well meaning (I'm sure) old woman began to learn me about purchasing fruit. Whats a good deal, how to buy watermelon, who had blueberries on sale last week. Jee whiz lady, my kid is shoving lemons up his nose GET ON WITH IT. I'm 34 years old- I can pick out some produce by myself. But I just smiled and nodded and slowly inched my way back to the checkout stand.

So that's that, nothing huge, just normal grocery stuff and some woman who tested my will to not strangle a complete stranger.

So, now I'm at home cooking (aka- sent Dan for carryout, because I suck) and the doorbell rings. It's two neighbor girls. They are covered in mud and they look terrified. I open the door, prepared to hear some terrible tale about wild animals or a serial killer chasing them through the woods. I scream out 'what's wrong girls'.

See, they were riding their bikes in the mud, in the wintery mud, in sweatshirts, without coats- or gloves, and they got stuck. And now they are all cold. And they want warm water to wash with and a warm home to be in.

So I did what any mother would have done.

I sent their sorry butts packing. Heck, I can see their homes from my porch. No way in hell am I going to let them drag their sorry behinds all mud covered and gross into my house. I was personally rejoicing that my kid wasn't one of them.

GO HOME I said GO HOME. You live 3 doors away, go there and tear up your own house. It's not like we live on a prairie or something.

And as they left, crushed and surprised at my rudeness, I thought my reaction will be NOTHING to the one their mothers are going to give them. I'll be surprised to see them, or their mud encrusted bikes, for a very long time to come.

1 comment:

Ronda said...

You know, I started going to Marsh simply because that's what we got used to in Bloomington, but higher prices be damned, I will continue to shop there exclusively until they take those ridiculous self-checkouts out of the other stores. Those things were created by the devil himself. He made those the same day he perfected caramel Hershey kisses.

Good for you on sending the kids home. I probably would have not even opened the're still much nicer than me!