Throwdown in the Supermarket Parking Lot

Let me say something before getting into the story...

Other than hitting a boy on the bus in 5th grade, because he called me a nasty word (of which I didn't know the meaning, but knew it was BAD), I have never been in a physical altercation before. It's just not me, I'm more of the easy-going, passive kind of person. I try and let everything roll off my back, if possible. So the thought of me being involved in an altercation, for those who know me, is just plain ridiculous.

Here's the set-up -

The kids got sick. Really sick. I was bathing them in rotational shifts to get sick off their bodies as well as cool their fevers down. I was washing, changing, and rewashing sheets, because we only have two sets of sheets per bed and we were blowing through those every few hours. I was cleaning puke out of the rugs.

Then it was off to the pediatrician's office to figure out what was going on in their little bodies. Now, I normally would not take all three kids to the pediatrician's office, but I didn't want to infect other family members, asking them to babysit. And I wanted them all looked at, because I didn't want to have to come back to the doc's office AGAIN. One trip is enough.

We spent an hour and a half in that small exam room. Wait 20 minutes for the doc to see us, another 10 for the nurse to come back and administer the strep cultures, another 20 minutes for the cultures to develop, and YES, a round of strep for the Thibault family!, then another 20 minutes for the Doc to come back and give us prescriptions.

Oh, and because of his Autism, Tristan doesn't like to be in small enclosed spaces like an exam room. Oh, and he puked on the floor of the exam room while we were waiting and I had to call someone to come and clean it up and also make sure none of the kids were stepping in it while we were waiting.

THEN after all of that hell, it was off to the Supermarket to get the prescriptions filled. Another hour wait, because it was cold and flu season and everyone was there doing the same thing as we were -- getting meds. I pushed them around in the cart, tried to make up games to keep a sick 6 year old, a sick 4 year old and a 3 year old busy inside of a supermarket for AN HOUR.

FINALLY it was time to go home with meds in hand. I was close to the point of tears as I pushed the kids out to the car and put them in their car seats. I just wanted to GO HOME and lay on the couch for the next three days and SLEEP.

I pushed the cart to the front of my car, near the light post, and started to walk back to my car - when I saw HER. Do you remember the hag in "Princess Bride?" The only who shouts at Buttercup in the dream sequence? This woman was looking at me in the same way, mouthing the words "Shame!"

Let me just pause and say this: I usually park close to the cart return so that I can take the kids out of the cart, put them in the car, and put the cart in the return. On this day, returning the cart was not my top priority.

So this woman is giving me the stink-eye and mouthing the word "Shame" over and over again as I back out and start to pull away.

And I snapped. Had enough stress and misery for one day.

I pulled my car around to the spot next to this HAG. I got out of the car, walked up to the open window and asked, "What is your problem?"

Hag: "Could you be any lazier? So lazy that you can't return the cart?"

Me: "Listen, lady, not that its any of YOUR business, but I've had a really hard day, and I didn't feel like leaving my sick kids in the car, ALONE, while I traipse across the parking lot to the return. The cart is out of the way."

Hag: "People like you are just so lazy. So rude. What's wrong with you?"

Me: "Are you kidding me? Seriously? I have three kids in the car, all sick, two with a disabilty and I don't feel like I should need to explain myself to you."

Hag: "Your kids aren't disabled. I saw them. They looked fine to me. Now you're not only lazy, you're a liar."

Me: "Whaat?"

Now here is where I wanted to have a Master's degree in Profanity. I wanted to let loose a 10-minute tirade on this woman, but in stressful times like this one, I lose all ability to spew really creative strings of cuss-words at people. (I have two friends who are masters at profanity, and I have always secretly envied them for having the right insult for every occasion!)

And I felt the rage bubbling up. I wanted to scream at her. Make her feel 1,000 times worse than she was making me feel at that moment.

I also wanted to drag Tristan out of the car and have him cough all over her and strep her up - that would teach her.

But finally, with a loss of words and patience, I said:

"BITCH"

and got in my car and drove away.

Two lessons from all of this:

1) Never judge a person or situation before you know the whole story.  You don't what that person has been through or is going through. Instead of commenting, offer some assistance. Be nice.

and

2) Always have a practiced-set of profanities ready for any situation...