Funky Town

Of all the days to say something bitchy to my kid, that childless little twit picked yesterday. The day when I was alternating between wanting to crawl into a fetal position and wanting to kick the shit out of someone. Not that I would, because that’s not lady-like behavior and I’m not that kind of person, but I might express the desire to. I might throw daggers at you with my eyes and don an expression that says, “I’m going to f$^&ing choke you now”.

School vacation, day three.

I took the kiddos to Old Port yesterday and had lunch with David at Flatbreads, otherwise known as our favorite local pizza joint. I was desperately trying to pull myself out of my funk (curse the funk!) and hoped that lunch overlooking Casco Bay would do the trick.

Gwen cried in Flatbreads when she learned that David had to go back to work. She cried loudly enough that the people at a nearby table, a salty looking older couple, turned in their seats to cast a disapproving glare at my heartbroken little girl. I wanted to glare back then tell the woman to mind her own business and comb the wiry grey rat’s nest on her head, but didn’t have it in me. Instead, I snapped at Gwen then shot Mrs. McNasty a dirty look.
* Hint: If you are in a pizza place that is a known family hot spot, then lose the attitude. If it’s fine dining you’re after, walk up the street a few blocks…but you’ll probably have to comb your hair first.

I promised the kids that we’d hit the Popcorn Company after lunch, so ended up forcing my funked-up self along. We waited behind a self-absorbed woman who lorded over the Popcorn Co. staff to ensure that her children were provided samples of each and every available flavor. Evidently, Mrs. McClueless gave birth to children far more important than anyone else’s. Do I need to tell you that my patience was wearing thin? Joe killed some time by eating an abandoned kernel of popcorn off a random table.

Trying to be patient

Kate threw piles of napkins onto the floor while Mrs. McClueless let her kid shove yet another sample of blue popcorn into his sticky little pie hole. He turned and displayed his treats to my three children who were nearly drooling and loudly asking when it would be their turn. Thankfully, the McClueless family arrived at a decision, picked their popcorn flavors and left before I lost my mind and said something terribly rude. I mean, really…it’s fucking popcorn. Pick a flavor and drag your ass.

Finally, with popcorn in hand, we exited the shop and my happy little boy skipped down the sunny sidewalk toward a  young couple. I lagged behind attempting to deep breath myself into a state of relaxation. I watched my beautiful boy attempt to maneuver around the couple then heard the young (bitch) woman sneer, “I do NOT like kids.” Evidently my six-year-old’s presence on the sidewalk was too much to bear. He wasn’t worthy of a slight move to the right to allow him to pass without having to brush up against parked cars. If I was a cartoon, my face would have turned an angry shade of scarlet, and steam would have blasted out of each ear accompanied by that screaming whistle sound.

Thankfully, Joe was blissfully unaware of the nasty remark and not all that bothered that two grown ups had such terrible manners that they would purposely not share the sidewalk. While that nasty woman sneered and directed her child-hatred at my son, her boyfriend’s gaze fell upon me. He realized her faux pas as soon as we made eye contact and delivered her an elbow to the ribs. The sneer fell from her face the moment she saw me. Her eyes widened, her gaze dropped to the ground and she began walking whole lot faster. I made her walk around me, causing her to brush up against a car to get past. I hope that someday, she is cursed with a raging brat.

Maybe when I’m in a funk, I need to keep these family outings to a minimum.

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