Hold Me Back

Last weekend, my little girl and I were playing on the playground when she broke into a circle of four little boys surrounding an empty box. The boys were probably 6 or 7 years old. My little girl, who is 2, sat in the box. The empty box. One of the little boys SHOVED her and said "GET OUT. GET OUT OF THAT BOX RIGHT NOW." Ladies and Gentlemen, something happened inside me which I had never felt before. It was a fire that burned from my belly all the way up through my head then back down and through my arms to my fingertips then down to my toes. I. Was. LIVID. That little shithead had put his hands on my little girl and I wanted to take his head off and throw it like a football into the arms of his terrified Mother. Instead, I plucked my sweet girl out of the box, looked the little boy right in the eye and said: "Don't push her, do you understand? We don't push.". His response: "Get her out of here!". I was incredulous. Not only did the little jerk push my daughter, but he was not sorry for it and now he was talking back to me. My eyes darted around the playground for his Mother, who was (naturally) nowhere in sight. We left the playground immediately and my blood was still boiling. My friend, who is an elementary school teacher, was with us and was just as aghast as I was. What am I to do in those situations? Parents are so defensive of their children's behavior that sometimes even the most reasonable plea for their intervention is met with a furrowed brow and an eye roll. All I have to say is GOD HELP THE TEENAGE GIRLS WHO ARE MEAN TO HER. I will make it my second job to fuck their shitty little lives up by doing really petty things like posing as a disgruntled customer at the ice cream shop where they work and make sure they get in trouble with their manager. That's my fantasy, anyway.

BACK BY POPULAR DEMAND

I wanted my re-entry into rambling to be about (surprise!) being a parent. I know, I know...YAWN. But! I think I've discovered a fairly accurate way to describe what it feels like to be a parent while working a full-time job (and perhaps also being a parent without working outside of the home as well, but I don't have that perspective).

Here goes: it feels like one of those stretches of time where you have to work 12 or 13 days in a row for whatever reason and at the end you get to do nothing but lie in bed watching movies and ordering take-out EXCEPT WITHOUT THE SECOND PART AND INSTEAD OF DAYS IT'S YEARS. Am I right or what?