Back in the day when I was young, childless and carefree, I used to go to the grocery and cruise up and down the aisle casually. I wasn’t in any hurry ’cause I had all the time in the world. No one throwing eggs in the aisle…no one pooping when I forgot to bring diapers…no one opening the bag of Cheetos I had just put in the cart…no pitiful looks from all those snotty moms who have it all together.
Those were the days. I used to be so put together. Organized, energetic, well-coiffed, and snotty. I was the one at the grocery store that would look in disbelief because you brought your kid to the grocery looking straight out the homeless shelter. I knew you had money ’cause you were toting that Louis Vuitton…but your kid had on Goodwill rejects. How dare you…shame, shame, shame…everybody knows your name.
It all comes back to haunt you cause God has a sense of humor.
Today, I took my kids to town…in public…looking like trash. Oh, the horror…the inhumanity. I was exuding sexiness in my husband’s white tee (complete with yellow arm pit stains), black running shorts, Coach bag and pink flip flops…’cause PINK is my SIGNATURE color!
My youngest was in white dingy gray tee, stained with Spaghetti Oh’s and cherry Kool-Aid, Huggies bursting at the seams and barefoot. Her mouth was stained red from the nectar of toddlers and greasy from the waffle/butter/syrup combo from breakfast several hours ago, yet no one had wiped her mouth. Her fingernails were black, as were her feet. Her hair was sticky, sweaty and had a huge twist on the right from constant hair twirling.
She looked mah-ve-lous darhling. Sstraight out of Compton…straight out the trailer.
And the great thing about all of this? We saw people we knew. And they gave me that look….the look of pity, and disgust, and horror.
And you know what? I really didn’t give a crap.