Mom Sends the Msg: Never Drive Faster Than Your Mom (or Dad) Can Text
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Mothers Working Against Guilt Need Not Apply

Liz@thisfullhouse Working Out

Behind every successful woman, is a basket of dirty laundry...Sally Forth

Except, in my case, it IS a "pile" of "clean" laundry and, well, success is a relative term, isn't it?

According to some members of my family (especially, those who are, you know, mostly, women) I should consider myself lucky, whenever my husband, Garth [not his real name] is brave enough to come home and "actually" gets out of the car, at night.

I get that.

Still.  Why are we women (mothers or non) so gosh-darned hard on each other?

That's right, I said it, being a woman should feel really, really good, right now and, honestly, I can't remember the last time I felt good-ish about myself...most especially, in the company of other women.

I mean, the minute something goes right in my life (yes, if you haven't guessed it, already, this post is NOT about the kids, so, pretend like I don't have any, okay?) my inner-teenager keeps wanting to bust out and, well, I never really liked her, either.

Take for instance, work.

I am THRILLED about being able to find a part-time job, outside the house, that works with my in-house schedule and, well, did I mention I have 4 kids, who get sick, a lot.

[resume pretending I don't have any kids]

There's this woman at work. 

Okay, so, like, there are MANY women, where I work, just pretend you know the one I'm talking about, okay?

Aaaaanyway, she's older (yes, Busy Mom, even older than me) and, well, I bet you 20-somethings think you've got it bad, right?

Imagine being treated like a red-headed step child, with 1 eye, no ears and terribly bad breath, at 40-something, by someone you don't even know.

"Good night, Mrs. Crabby Pants!"

No, I don't call her that (IRL) but, as soon as I open my mouth, to be nice, the woman cringes, every time.

[smells breath, checks for underarm stains]

I just don't get it.

"So-and-So is coming in tomorrow for a visit!"

Then, I overheard her talking with another member (the room is small, what?) and I finally realized what it was (because, I'm smart like that) long story, short (you're welcome) Mrs. Crabby Pants and So-and-So are very good friends, for the last 8 years, IRL.

"Where's So-and-So?"

Aaaaand, I was the one who told Mrs. Crabby Pants that So-and-So doesn't work here, anymore.

"WHATAREYOUKIDDINGMEWHENWHYHOWCANTHEYDOTHATTOHER?"

So, Mrs. Crabby Pants hates me...the end.

"I'm sorry?"

No, she doesn't know me and I don't owe her any explanations, or validations (just because she's woman, like me) beyond the fact that, you know, no, it wasn't the nicest introductions I have ever experienced.

"This place stinks!"

However, it was, to date, the worst first day at work of my life and, trust me, I've had plenty, before kids.

[pretend like you don't know what I am talking about and amazed that a sweet, youngish-looking thing like me is even old enough to have oldish-kids, okay?]

Then again, it's been a while -- full-time moms can lead such a solitary lives, some times -- and I seemed to have forgotten my body armor, at home.

"I'm canceling my contract."

On the other hand, in my humble opinion, I have witnessed enough anti-social behavior, in one day, to last a lifetime.

"I hope you allow yourself some time to reconsider your decision."

I know, I will.

After our [ahem] awkward meeting, Mrs. Crabby Pants continued to express her [double-ahem] dissatisfaction with EVERYONE ELSE, within ear shot (including me) for the next few days.

[whisper, whisper, whisper]

No, she did NOT cancel her contract (yet) however, it's been difficult.

"Why don't you just tell her to SUCKIT!"

My two oldest daughters (16 and 13, respectively and GAWD how I love them) think I'm just being a bit overly sensitive, as usual.

"Because, she's a customer."

Call me old-fashioned, go ahead.

"I also don't believe in engaging in bad behavior."

Sound familiar?

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Crabby Pants."

So, yesterday, I opened up and pretended like, you know, it was our first day, all over again.

"So, are you always going to be working these hours."

UGH.

"Yes, you see, because then I can keep my day job."

[cringe]

"Oh, you work during the day, too?"

DUH!

"Yes, and I am also a writer."

[eyes go wide]

"Really?

Wait...

"What do you write about?"

Wait...for...it...

"I make other women look good."

Okay, actually, I meant how I make "other moms" look good, but I wasn't about to play the "I've got 4 kids" card.

"How do you do that?"

Here...it...comes...

"By sharing stories about raising 4 kids..."

Okay, so I played the "I've got 4 kids" card, but wait, there's more.

"...and how moms should not feel guilty about stupid stuff, all the time."

Because, I really don't need ANYONE'S help in that department, thankyouverymuch!

"Uh-huh, that's nice."

No, I don't believe in engaging in bad behavior.

"Have a nice day!"

But, I certainly don't have to take it...either...especially, not from a two-faced, venomous old, cranky pants, drama queen, who could probably use a good bitch-slap in the paunch, or two!

"See you tomorrow!"

The End.

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