If only I had me a set of boxing gloves to prove I was serious and not to be messed with
So I get Miss5 off to school after United Nations style discussions over the color of undies she will or won't wear. It changes daily.Then I take Miss2 to daycare. I send one twin to Daycare alone once a week, so they can get used to being independent, and I can get some quality one-on-one time with the other twin
On to the shopping center with Mstr2, and cue parking drama. Minor-ish road rage incident with a woman in a mini van who is incapable of driving said mini van. She jumps out to abuse me in some foreign language, simply for making a few impatient style gestures as she took her 487th shot at maneuvering into her parking spot. She is about 5 foot at best. No wonder she can’t drive her mini-spaceship. She can’t even see over the bloody steering wheel.
I move on, as a closer spot becomes available. And it’s got easier parking access. And I get into it perfectly, first try. Suck it, itty-bitty bitch woman – who is still trying to get into her parking spot.
Genius. I need me some of these. For real
And this is where it got really bad for me.
Right inside the entrance is a small enclosed playground set up for toddlers.AKA - The battlegroundAKA - The scene of the crimeAKA - The wrestling enclosureMstr2 is in there before I can even try and distract him with a donut and riding in the shopping trolley.While prone to random tantrums at nothingness, Mstr2 is a lover and not a fighter. Despite what you’d expect from such a volatile little dude, he is quite the peacemaker. He shies away from confrontation. On account of his girly-man side, me thinks.
Anywho, itty-bitty bitch woman comes in with her child. A girl, around 5, quite lovely and cute and normal, enters the play area.
She morphs into the demon spawn of an uber-beast as she passes the point of no return – the self-closing gate.
She pushes one kid off a bench. Itty-bitty bitch woman is too busy on her mobile to notice.
She then commandeers the bench for herself. Only, a bunch of toddlers don’t know she has assumed sole ownership, and each child that attempts to go on, over, under, or near this bench is screamed at, pushed, smacked and/or poked.
Itty-bitty bitch woman sees a number of these altercations, and only once does she ‘tsk’ and say ‘stop that’, before turning her back and resuming her mega important text message conversation. And, she says it in a much more passive and quiet tone than that which she used to abuse me for a few 'hands in the air' type gestures in the car park.
I totally get the ignorance is bliss / if you can’t see them you can’t be bothered by them / block them out philosophy. But, if it is affecting other people, especially other children – you stop what you’re doing and pay attention.
This is a small play area, and the bench in question is central to every tunnel, climbing object, entrance and exit. You can’t avoid it.
All the other parents are lined up around the outside of the fenced in play area. As each child is reprimanded and smacked by this little girl, you can pick the parent of the other child by the look on their face. They are white-knuckling the fence railing, their jaw clenches, and they look over at itty-bitty bitch woman. Nothing happens.
I’m almost bouncing now. It was like the Incredible Hulk - or Hulkess - was about to bust out of me.
I'd like to claim this is what I'd look like as The Incredible Hulkess....
but, this is probably more realistic
It’s got to the point where I am willing this child to even look at Mstr2, so I can “tag in” wrestling style, and confront itty-bitty bitch woman.
I’m sending serious brain messages to Mstr2, willing him to put himself in harm’s way and go to the bench – take one for the team, little dude, please!
But he doesn’t. Typical that he would ignore my mental telepathy messages.
Finally, a father steps in. On account of his poor little guy being pushed clean off the bench on to his backside, and having his balloon taken away by the mini-beast. He addresses the itty-bitty bitch, and quite politely asks her to talk to her daughter who has upset nearly every child in the play area, and ask her to also return his son's balloon.
Itty-bitty bitch woman glares at this father, then tells him to shut up and resumes her text message marathon!
I shit you not.
I'm now mentally willing this father to tag me in, again, wrestling style, because this bitch needs to go down. I was like the female version of The Rock all ready to go lay the smack down on her. In the middle of a shopping center. In the playground.
Instead, at this point, I take Mstr2 away. It was either that or celebritise myself by making it on to the nightly news bulletin for doing the 'clothes line' on this woman in the fence around the play area.
I’ve never felt so angry, and wanted to smack someone so much in my life.
Now, however, I’m feeling all righteous for taking the high road and not making a scene or confronting itty-bitty bitch woman. Karma and all that.
I’m sincerely hoping my karmic reward will come when she has to make at least another 487 attempts just to reverse out of her parking spot when she leaves. And her mini-beast will probably decide that is the ideal time to be in desperate need of a toilet. And her car seats won’t be water proofed. And perhaps, if I’m really lucky, people will have abandoned their shopping trolleys right up against her spaceship-van.