Me and Crusty

I have always thought that I stay pretty cool on the road even when others are acting like morons—and there are a lot of angry souls on the Atlanta roads; it’s really bad.  I get irritated, but I try not to act like everyone else, mainly because it doesn’t do any good and also because I don’t want to get into a wreck with my kids in the car.  I am definitely not what I would call laid-back in life because I tend to be dramatic and opinionated, but I do have a really long fuse and I typically don’t waste my energy on strangers.  I just laugh at rude people most of the time and it’s seemed to work for me so far.  I have enough stress in my life and I prefer to be a happy person—I don’t like getting stressed out about people I don’t even know.  Lately though, I have been getting so sick of blowing people off.  People are angry about everything lately and I am so sick and tired of people’s nasty attitudes— it’s getting harder to hold it in.  I realize that I am getting fed up either because of my age or because of how crazy and hectic my life is, but whatever the reason, I vow to not make confrontation a habit.  With that said,  I have to say that what I did last Saturday was liberating. 

 

Last Saturday I took Lindsey and Zach (Logan’s friend) to pick up the pizza.  I brought Carson and Dylan with me and Logan and Don stayed at home.  I know that you are wondering why Zach came with us and it’s because he likes Lindsey and he was following her around all weekend.  Anyway, after we picked up the pizza they wanted to get candy for the movie.  I told them that I wasn’t going to get the babies out of the car in the rain, but that I would give them money and they could run in.  Because it was raining I pulled up to the curb and let them out.  I sat there for maybe 10 seconds before this lady drove around me flailing her arms and yelling at me through the glass.  That was the straw that broke the camel’s back for some reason.  I had had it.  I didn’t do anything terrible; it wasn’t even that rude.  HOW hard is it to turn your steering wheel 4 degrees and press on the gas pedal to go around a car?  We are not talking rush hour traffic and we are not talking high speeds here; we are talking maneuvering a car in a parking lot.  I was so irritated with this old, crusty, bitter lady and I decided to tell her that she sucked, nicely.

You know what I did?  I pulled my mini-van through the parking lot and parked next to her.  I rolled down my window, leaned over to the passenger’s window and waited for her to get out of the car.  The conversation went something like this:

Me: “Excuse me.  I’m sorry.  Did you have a problem you’d like to talk with me about?”

Crusty:  “Well, you were sitting there and I was behind you.”

Me: “Well, every time that I pull into any grocery store, I usually see a car letting someone out.  It’s not a big deal.  I have two toddlers in the car, it’s raining, and I was dropping my daughter off so she wouldn’t get soaked.”

Crusty:  “I understand, but I was behind you.”

Me: “Everyone does it.  It isn’t a big deal.  What is the big deal?”

Crusty:  “OH!  So just because everyone else does it means that it’s ok?”

Me: “Are you a cop?”

She looked at me blankly and finally yelled “KISS MY A**!” at the top of her lungs in the parking lot of a  suburban grocery store. 

I yelled back “Ok, lady!  I’ll get right on it!  Sounds good!”

I can’t believe that I did that, but seriously—I felt like saying "Man up!  Stop cussing and flailing your arms in your car as if the metal will protect you and you’ll never see me again!  We were at the grocery store, not on I-75!   And all you could come up with was some stupid phrase, requesting me to kiss your butt?  How very disappointing you are.  I'll probably run into you at a PTA meeting one day, but I don't care....oh, no, I won't.  Your kids are probably my age, and yet you're acting like you're thirteen."  I didn't get to say all of that, but it would've been good, but mean, and then I would have felt guilty. 

Zach had to ask me a question and was coming toward my car as the lady was stomping away.  He said that he heard her call me an “F-ing B” and a "whore".  I’m not sure about this, but how in the world does my sexual history have to do with the situation?  HAHA!  She’s very clever and classy.  Notice that I never called her ONE name?  

I won’t ever act like that again because it didn't do any good.  I should not have done it.  I was just so irritated.  Clearly this lady is unhappy and I am sure that I only made her more unhappy, which isn't something that I like to do to people.  Besides, I am sure that she thinks I ride around doing stuff like that on a regular basis and that only confirmed in her mind that she was right.  I shouldn’t have done it because it is NOT what Jesus would’ve liked me to do and it didn't do justice to my normal personality.  I am sure that she told everyone all about the psycho that confronted her at the grocery store, which I have to say, is sort of funny.

There is one other time that I went off on someone a little bit and it was at the library of all places. I didn't feel guilty at all.  Logan and Lindsey used to “have to pee” like every five seconds just to check out the bathroom.  It sounds bizarre, but it turned into a power thing. Any time that they were bored and tired of being patient, they would say that they had to go.  You know what I am talking about, if you have kids.  I was in the midst of dealing with this little habit of theirs and I knew when they really had to go.  They had JUST gone at the last stop.  I was at the library for about ten minutes and the kids had been very well-behaved.  I was checking out my books and Lindsey was interrupting me and saying “I have to go” over and over and over again.  I was saying “Wait one minute and we’ll go on our way out.  You can wait one minute.”  I was trying to NOT raise a rude brat.  The librarian said very rudely “Maybe you should take her to the bathroom.”  My neck snapped back and I said “I’m sorry!  Was that you raising my child?  Mind your business.  I think I know how to raise my kid.  She isn’t going to pee on your floor!”  I took my books; I took her to the bathroom and couldn't believe that I had snapped at her like that.  It was instinctual and I hadn't even considered whether or not to say something.  It really made me mad because I never would have said that to someone, and I wasn’t being neglectful in any way.  I know my kid and I know what the situation is.  I don’t need some grouchy lady telling me to take my kid to the bathroom. 

Then there was the time that I stuck up for my sister..…..but we won’t talk about that one—right, Ash, Mom and Brea?  Ok, so maybe I run my mouth sometimes.  Don’t mess with a chick in a mini-van!