Since becoming a mom, I’ve noticed a few alarming traits making more of an appearance in my day to day life. I’ve had these momma-bear moments where I get all riled up and go into protective mode. And not always when my kid is under a “perceived” threat…I put perceived in quotes because sometimes my body/mouth acts well before my brain can determine if its actually a threat. I’ve always been a bit of a brawler when it comes to things that I feel are wrong, impolite or just friggen annoying. Ask my friend Alayne, she’ll tell you about the time we went to see Borat. After sitting through most of the movie (completely disgusted that they let 13 year olds in to see the movie) and hating it, I walked out and demanded my money back. When the pimply weeny behind the bullet-proof glass ticket booth wouldn’t give me a refund I went on giving him the angriest, indignant lecture I could muster. Oh he felt the indignation!! (and that was WELL before I was even thinking of having kids!!) I’ve left angry notes on peoples windshields if they park too close to me or if they’re parking in a handicapped zone (though they’re CLEARLY not handy). I’m going to go on a bit of a rant here. But it is SO effing annoying when you come back to your car after grocery shopping, you’ve got an angry, tired baby to wrestle into a car seat when you realize the a-hole who has parked beside you in a giant SUV has not left enough space for you to fully open your door to allow you to wrestle a fore mentioned angry baby into the car seat, thus making her AND you even angrier. That’s a request for an angry windshield note (and the temptation to key their car). Ok, I may have some anger issues to deal with. M has had to hold me back a few times from beaking off at someone because that someone was a lot bigger than me and HE didn’t want to have to get in a fight for me…I mean because of me.
This all stems from last night. I went to a concert with my dad last night. It was a sold out show, in the Jack Singer concert hall. For those of you who aren’t familiar with this venue, it is the home of our Philharmonic Orchestra and quite a classy place. This was not a rock show. Undoubtedly we had this couple sitting beside us that were not abiding by the common sense rules that go with attending a classy-type event. No talking after the lights go down. If you must talk, you whisper. These no class fools were using their outside voices and gestures, wearing tinkly jewelry that made noise EVERY time she ran her hands through her hair, or scratched her face or grabbed her purse or grabbed her mans leg. I sent a few “stink eyes” her way and finally said a few things in my “indignant tone” that produced minimal results. At one point the guy got up and left halfway through a song (breaking another rule), much to the great annoyance to ALL those around him. Yet no one said anything. At intermission we thought they were leaving…but it was either to get some more drinks or to do another line of coke in the bathroom. It ended up that they had picked up a couple more doubles of rye and coke to smuggle into the auditorium. Guy got caught and had to chug it in the hallway, lady did not. Lucky for them, they calmed down a bit for the second half so I didn’t have to go all Momma-bear on their ass and embarrass my dad. Yah…lucky for them.
And not only do I get angry, I also tend to say real classy things without thinking about them. This weekend while at a restaurant with my brother and SIL (sister-in-law) I embarrassed myself completely. Sofia was sitting in a high-chair at the end of the table and our server was complementing us on how good she was being. Sofia was enthralled by her shiny belt buckle and was touching it and exploring the area with her developing dexterity…and venturing into the crotchal area. I wasn’t sure if the server noticed but I was a bit uncomfortable with Sofia messing around that area however innocently enough.
So I said…”Easy Sofia…you have to buy her dinner first!”…
That’s me. Tomato-faced lady in the booth…putting the ass in class. M left a good tip afterwards.