I told you guys I had a lot to say. I must confess I felt like a rabid animal a few times this past weekend. I have to add why I sound so belligerent in the OPP post. There was a kid at my child's party that I could not pin to a parent.
I so wanted to dart this child and hold him up by his ears and scream: WHO OWNS THIS? The kids at my daughter's party were supposed to be from ages six to nine. This kid was ten or eleven and loud. He had no idea when to shut up in this little party room. I could not tell him. Oh how I wanted to, and if I had known his parents, I would have given them the look of: Do Something.
What made me have to leave the room was when he looked down my shirt and loudly commented and asked if I knew I had a scratch on my chest. After he asked me twice, my husband stepped in the way and I retreated wishing I could catapult him from the room. I was so embarrassed because I could see other parents looking at each other and shaking their heads as if to say: WHY?
No one made him shut up. Everyone heard him. Repeatedly commenting on everything. I wanted to scream out: CONTAIN YOUR YOUNG!
Especially this little pervert that wont stop staring down my shirt as I am serving cake. A shirt with a very conservative neckline that you really had to dive into to see where a puppy had scratched me. AHHH!
ACCEPTING THE SANDWICH: Moments of harsh reality can be short: so bite hard, chew and swallow. I talk about everything from marriage to kids and pretty much whatever life flings my way. The rebel in me still wants to wish in one hand. The Realist makes me wash my hands and brush profusely.
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