November | 2010 | Ramblings of a Semi-Conscious Mastermind Mommy

So I was at the gas station today when I spotted a young man in an Army uniform paying for his gas. I glanced around the station to see what type of vehicle he was driving. My two-year-old daughter was in the back seat and I like to point out the cool army vehicles these boys drive to my kids. Not seeing any Humvee in the gas station, I figured he came in a regular car. No big deal.

So I finish pumping my gas, get my receipt and go to get in my car when I happen to look over and come eye to eye with another soldier in the same uniform.

“How you doin’?” he smiled.

“How are you?” I reply as I flash a quick smile and hop in my car.

I hear him say something like “Fine, thank you,” but I’d already closed the car door and was starting the engine.

It wasn’t until after I had put my car in gear and started backing out of the gas pump that I realized that I was rather rude to this young man. He was being perfectly friendly and I basically ignored him and went about my business. Sheesh, I’m a jerk.

The thought has occurred to me, when I see a man or woman in uniform to just walk up to them, shake their hand and say thank you. Thank you for serving our country. Thank you for putting your life on the line so my family can live free, without the fear of violence or poverty upon them.

Last year, my son’s Cub Scout pack took up a collection of items to send to the troops in Afghanistan after a deadly attack in the mountains left eight US soldiers dead and all their supplies obliterated. My friend was a member of that troop so I chose to head up the collection and send the supplies in his name.

Later that year I saw a soldier loading boxes into his car in the parking lot of Staples and the urge came to me to walk over and just say thank you. But instead I chose to mind my business and post a thank you to my friend’s Facebook wall instead.

I’m ashamed that I didn’t do anything. That no words of encouragement or thankfulness came from me to that soldier in the parking lot. That I was too wrapped up in my own things to take a minute and talk to those soldiers in the gas station today.

Why can’t I? How come I can talk to people I went to high school with that are serving our country that I haven’t spoken to in YEARS and thank them for the service they’re providing, but I can’t walk up to a stranger in a military uniform and shake their hand? Aren’t they all doing the same job? Don’t they deserve to know what a fine job they are doing?

I confided in my soldier friend this awful truth about myself and his words to me were simple. Although I can’t remember them exactly, he said something along the lines of “Don’t ever be afraid to thank a soldier. They are just regular people and like to know they’re making a difference in someone’s life.”

So my message to you is simple. This holiday season, as you give thanks for your family and your friends and your life, take a moment and give thanks for our soldiers who are out there, not just overseas, but here on our soil as well, risking their lives so we can live free and love life.

Thank you.

And to those soldiers that I have encountered on the street, in a parking lot or at a gas station, I’m sorry for staring. I’m sorry for worrying that you’ll think I’m weird. And I’m sorry for not offering at least a little bit of gratitude.

Thank you for the work you’re doing to protect this great country of ours. May you all return to your families, safe and soon. God Bless.

Article first published as Thankful For Our Soldiers, Ashamed Of Myself…… on Technorati.

All opinions in this post come from Jennifer herself unless otherwise noted. All names have been changed to protect the innocent and the moronic. This post has no compensation level as I did not receive anything for writing this post,(visit my Full Disclosure page for more details) and no, you can not steal my content unless you specifically ask me for it first. It’s called copyright, yo.

Ok, so MOMS!! How many of you are friends with or “friendly” with the parents of your kids friends?? Do you think you have to be friends or “friendly” with ALL of them? Cause I’m about to call this bitch out…

My son’s so-called “best friend” is the boy who lives across the street. They ride the bus to school together and play together almost ever Friday after school. This boy’s parents are immigrants from another country and although his father speaks English, his mother is still learning. So you can understand when I say there is a language barrier between us. I deal mostly with the mother (We’ll call her “Mary”.) because like me, she stays home during the day. So she’s the one at the bus stop in the morning and afternoon. She’s the one home when the boys play on Fridays (if you call one plays with toys while the other one plays video games “playing”. They don’t play together, they play side by side and if I’m not there to insist that they play together, they don’t and it’s MY SON who gets the shaft.).

In the four years that the boys have been friends, this woman has flashed her attitude at me at least once a year. It all started when the bus stop got moved. See initially, our bus stop was right in front of the house. The bus driver would stop right in the middle of the block, pick the boys up and off they would go. In the afternoon, it was the same thing. It was the most awesome thing in the world. Little Miss was still an infant so I could watch from the front door for the bus, run out, grab the boy and be back in the house before she had time to spit up her formula.

The next year, they changed things. Our bus stop got moved to the end of the block for reasons that would take up entirely too much room here to explain. At the new bus stop, I made a friend, another mom on my block named Joann. Not long after, I started staying at the bus stop a little longer just chatting with my new friend. Now I wouldn’t do it every day. And on the days that I didn’t stay to talk to Joann, I would walk back home with Mary. After a while, Mary started dashing off after the bus picked up the kids. She practically ran home, leaving me to walk home alone. Fine, whatever, no big deal.

One day while I was picking up Big Boy from a playdate, Mary finally told me what her problem was. Evidently she thought my friend Jenn, was giving her dirty looks at the bus stop and it was making her feel ugly. Now I know a little Spanish from my high school days so I tried to explain to her that I didn’t think Jenn was giving her dirty looks. And I apologized if she felt left out of our conversations at the stop. It’s not all that easy to have a conversation with three people when one of them doesn’t speak the same language so well. After that, she continued to run off and not be friendly with my friend although she continued to speak to me.

Then the next year they changed the bus mileage. My son was no longer getting a bus. I went down to the transportation office for the school district, asked them to re-measure and my son got his bus, but it’s a totally different bus stop. The day before school started, I decide to call the father (John, we’ll call him) to make sure that his son John, Jr. would be on the correct bus stop. Well, it turns out that they never got a bus pass and unfortunately they had to scramble to get him one.

I heard about THAT a week later… After not being on the bus for the first three days of school, they show up on the stop the following Monday. After ignoring me for three days Mary actually looked at me and asked me point blank if I knew that her son wasn’t getting a bus pass. I answered no. She then proceeded to tell me about how they had to go to the doctor and get a medical note in order to get John Jr. a bus pass. She doesn’t drive so she would have had to walk him the three quarters of a mile to the school. The boy gets bronchitis like a gazillion times a year. It’s understandable that he would get bus for medical reasons. But she was clearly upset with me for not saying something sooner. Um, what am I, a fucking psychic? When did it become my responsibility to make sure that your son has a bus? He’s not my kid. I take care of MY kids. YOU take care of yours.

So here’s the latest… Friday, Big Boy gets off the bus and asks for his normal playdate with his friend. I say, “Sure, go ask your friend.” (who was already half way home). My son runs up to ask and Mary whips around and snaps at him, “Not today, okay?”. I hear John Jr whining to his mother why they can’t play and she rattles off something in Spanish and walks to the house. Now I have to deal with my disappointed boy who wants to play with his friend. “But why, Mom??” How do you answer that? “I don’t know baby. Maybe they have something to do today.”

I’ll be the first to admit, my son doesn’t have a lot of friends outside of school. Playdates aren’t lining up at the door every weekend and my phone isn’t ringing off the hook with kids who want to play. So when my son doesn’t get the one thing he’s been looking forward to all week, it hurts not only him, but me too. But… maybe they had something to do…

Today I’m at the bus stop with Little Miss. This is the first time in a week that she’s been at the stop. Mary LOVES Little Miss. Always telling me how beautiful she is and how much she loves her hair and so on and so forth. So now I know there’s something wrong when Mary does not respond to Little Miss. I ask Little Miss to say hello and I get a very cold “Hola” in return.

Ok, maybe she’s having a mood swing or something. She’s been known to do that too. One morning she will look at me and say “My English not so good today, okay?” and then proceed to ignore me. Or she’ll just wave me off like I’m not good enough to talk to her.

Finally she looks at me and say “I have a question.” Now I have no idea what she’s going to ask of me. I don’t think I could have done anything to upset or offend. I make sure I say hello or good morning every time I see her (cause she gets pissy if you don’t acknowledge her). I make sure I offer to drive her home if I am at the stop with my car (yes, I’m one of THOSE moms, shut up). And I share my umbrellas or try to help her with her English whenever I can. I think I’m pretty nice. I did notice this week that she was sort of ignoring me and chattering away with the other mom at the bus stop (there are only three kids at the stop and the other mom is bi-lingual) in Spanish. I just figured she was having another menopausal mood swing.

“Last Friday when the boys wanted to play, why didn’t you ask me before they got off the bus?” I stand there, dumbfounded. (keep in mind, this is what I was able to translate cause she is in a full rolling spanish, taking no account that I only have a vague understanding of what she’s saying.) “I don’t like it. Because I’m not feeling good so I say no play.” and then rambles something along the lines of “but you didn’t ask me ahead of time.”

Not for nothing, but my son is eight years old. He’s his own little person and I can’t read his mind whether he wants to have a playdate with his friend or not. I don’t know how he did in school on his spelling test and whether he got in trouble during recess that I shouldn’t allow him to play with his friend. So I couldn’t have spoken to her ahead of time because I didn’t want to make plans and then have to break them and look like an asshole if my son doesn’t deserve to play with his friend.

Also, why can’t the boys make their own plans and just ask us if they can play? Why do the parents have to consult each other every time? And I WAS going to talk to her WHEN I CAUGHT UP TO THEM. She fucking SPEED WALKS back to her house every afternoon, dragging that poor boy behind her. I’m no skinny mini like she is. I can’t walk that fast without having a fucking heart attack. And I’m not RUNNING to catch up to your ass just to ask if our kids can play. That’s what the kids are for! I run for ONE and ONLY ONE thing, my kids. But she chose to blow me and my son off and then get mad that I didn’t ask her ahead of time. What’s wrong with this picture here?

If you know me, you know I don’t like confrontation. I don’t like problems, and I don’t like to fight (mainly because when I try I freeze up and forget half of what I want to say so it’s better if I just avoid it or give in). I wound up apologizing and telling her that I should have spoken to her first before sending my son to ask for a playdate. What I wish I could have said was “Fuck you and the horse you rode in on! If our boys want to play they should be able to play whether you feel good or not. Why couldn’t you just ask if they could play at my house?” Of course if I tried it would have come out all stuttery and stupid sounding.

I am just about done with this woman. I don’t think we need to be friends or even friendly with each other for the boys to be friends. And I can’t even talk to her because we’d probably have to get a fucking translator.

I’m tired of being treated like I’m the offensive one here. I’m tired of being treated like I’m not good enough.

I’m making him a walker next year…

This is an original ROSCMM post. All opinions in this post come from Jennifer herself unless otherwise noted. All names have been changed to protect the innocent and the moronic. This post has no compensation level as I did not receive anything for writing this post,(visit my Full Disclosure page for more details) and no, you can not steal my content unless you specifically ask me for it first. It’s called copyright, yo.