Photo Credit: PregTastic
Spring is here, but in a very tepid kind of way. New green has emerged from some of the trees, but since temperatures were down in the mid-thirties last night, some of the trees are still bare, or budding at best.
Yesterday, though, it hit the mid-60s, and people were out and about. Since my afternoon unexpectedly opened up and I knew that my dinner was easy, I decided to take the boys outside after their nap. Ursa Minor expedited that by waking up an hour earlier than usual. Good old Ursa Minor…thanks, buddy.
Anyway, so here we go: Get them dressed, get myself dressed, do the hair, get with the sun screen. Where are your shoes? No, don’t take them off! Where is your hat? What do you mean you don’t want that hat? Do you want bubbles or the ball? The ball? Fine. Do you want sidewalk chalk? No? Fine. Wait, you do? Well yes or no, Ursa Major? Augh. Fine. Crap, it won’t all fit into the stroller. errrrgh, aurgh….ok, made it. Ursa Minor in the basket. Click. Awesome! No, Ursa Major, you need to walk. No, no, buddy, you are walking. I’m leaving without you, let’s go. Please don’t scream in the hallway. …..why are you screaming in the hallway? Go push the elevator button. Ohhh, great, I’m glad that made you feel instantly better….
So we get outside, and the sun is warm and the birds are chirping. I pick a nice out-of-the-way part of the sidewalk to break out the chalk. The boys are fascinated. We get to draw on the “floor”? Ursa Major doesn’t really know what to do with himself. Ursa Minor does. He takes the chalk and throws it about. Good thing his throws are weak, so nothing really happens but an interesting hollow thud. Ursa Major, for advanced studies, decides to do the same. “Oh No! It’s broken!” He exclaims when the damn thing breaks into three pieces. ….awesome…. Refocus, everyone, refocus. I start drawing, they sorta draw. Finally, they are back to throwing chalk.
“All done, chalk. Let’s put it away.”
“Clean up, clean up…” Ursa Major begins. He picks up 3 sticks, then he notices that “GOOSE!”
A couple of geese have created a nest full of eggs right behind my apartment. Papa Goose was out on patrol, making sure that everything was on the up and up. Papa Goose is bigger than Ursa Major. Ursa Major decides to run toward Papa Goose, encouraging Ursa Minor to do the same.
Lordy! “NO! Thanks! No thank you! Let’s look at the goose over here!”
I gather up the boys and the rest of the chalk, loading Ursa Minor into the stroller, and I look up to see that the usual gathering spot for mamas and nannies has amassed a gather. Now, I like some of the mamas and some of the nannies, but not all of them, so I don’t always get with the group when I see them. Ursa Major noticed some of his little friends over there, so he was like “kids!” and I huffed “fine.”
We cross the street and Ursa Major goes bounding toward the group of children. They greet him and start playing. As I approached, conversation ceased among the moms and nannies who had gathered. It was like one of moments in the teen movie where all the cool kids are having a party, the nerd shows up and says something incredibly uncool and then you hear the record rip and everyone just kinda stops and stares with a scowl. Yeah, that’s what happened.
One of the moms present is That Mom of multiple post fame. Another mom is a woman who, when I went to that horrible playroom over the winter, came over to introduce herself and then immediately said, “you must be a nanny, too.” Now before you get huffy, you should know that, in context, I understood where she was coming from. Most of the women in the room, at that moment, were nannies and we just happened to know each other so I had addressed them with particular warmth. So when this mom made that mistake, I smiled and said “Oh, no, these are my sons,” and introduced them. No anger at all. Well I don’t know if she is embarrassed or if she has issues with interracial couples, because now whenever I see her, I get this weird stare, and yesterday, all I got was a dismissive look. She, That Mom, and I guess some new neighbors who have a young child, were out, hands on hips, and not inclusive.
Wooooooow. Really? Maybe someone just pissed in their koolaid…I don’t really know…
To make it worse, while I stand there watching Ursa Major run around for a few minutes, That Mom starts loudly saying “Well, we’re all going to go for a walk. Are you read to go for a walk [Goldie Locks]?”
So I’m like, hey, don’t let me shit on your party. I call to Ursa Major “Hey, buddy, let’s go get the mail. Then we’ll go kick the ball.”
Of course he didn’t want to leave. But I wasn’t going to sit there and feel like a high school freshman. I’ve got other things to do. So I take his hand and we go. That Mom and This Mom are still making a show of leaving and go for a walk. The mailroom faces the gathering place and there is only one way in and out. So, of course, when we come out with the mail, I couldn’t help but notice that everyone was still gathered. The walk never seemed to happen.
We go out to a field, kick around the ball, bask in the son, explore grass and grates and trees. Everything is great until Ursa Minor drops a load. It was getting late anyway and it was time to make dinner, so I put both boys in the stroller and head toward home.
And guess what we have to pass by to get there?
And guess who was still there, talking, and not walking?
I don’t even know what to make of this. It’s just so very blech, you know? All I wanted all winter was the opportunity to go outside and let these two boys go run around (and spend allllllllllllll of their energy), and now I’m going to have to do it while dodging other people? That sucks. They suck. I shouldn’t have to deal with playground politics in my late 20s.
So the moral of the story is, if you are a mean mama, that’s gross. Also, if you are a mean mama, being obvious about it is extra gross.
Just another reason to buy this house and get the buck out of here.
The good news is that my mom friends are getting together for playgroup on Monday. Something to look forward to!