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| "Pic de Rosu" by Anita Inverarity |
When my mother was a little girl, her mother threw plates
down the hall at her children and dumped out all their drawers when their socks
weren’t matched up right.
When I was a little girl, my mother threw candles at me and
had the quickest back-hand mouth-crack east of the Mississippi.
Now I’m old enough…hell, past old enough, to have had my
first child. I haven’t, due to my
propensity for choosing boys over men, but there are still plenty of
opportunities to discover that the maternal apple doesn’t fall far from the
tree.
Yesterday, I stared coldly at a ten-year old girl while
tears tracked down her face and dripped off her nose. I mocked her and laughed as she screamed. Her pain and anguish were my vindication and
I reveled in them. Hearing her shriek “Mommy”
over and over was just the beginning.
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| Bitches don't know 'bout my Microsoft Paint skills. |
Snap’s “girls” are angels when they’re sleeping: beautiful,
at peace, cherubic cheeks curving beneath feathers of lashes. When awake, they’re hell-fiends with an annoyance
agenda; funny little hell-fiends who never cease to amaze me, but baby she-devils
nonetheless. I love hanging out with
them for a couple hours, after which I start wondering if drugging them with
Benadryl is really child abuse or
just, you know, pre-medication against the threat of attacking allergens.
So we all squeeze in to my 2-door silver chariot, listening
to the wheezes and groans of 130 aging horses as they prepare for yet another
afternoon of suburban stop-and-go. The
girls are comfortably ensconced in the back seat with my winter coat (it’s now
spring), my late-fall hoody (spring), my Chuck Taylors (I took them off the
first day it was warm enough for flip-flops and forgot to bring them upstairs),
a pillow I stole from a Comfort Inn in the mountains (because, you know, what
if I’m on a long trip somewhere and really really need a nap), several pairs of
socks (flip-flop weather is a demanding mistress, but so are work shoes…it’s
complicated), a first aid kit (that at least makes sense), a bag with some of
those Tide pod things in it and a Yankee Candle (thanks Mom!), plastic water
bottles in various states of fill (hey, there’s still water in those, water
doesn’t go bad…right?), a pair of high heels (???), a Vera Bradley lunch bag
with tanning lotion and a towel stuffed in it, a map of the great Commonwealth
of Pennsylvania, a map of the national armpit that is New Jersey, lost pens,
mutilated sticky pads, the lost Dead Sea Scrolls, the bloated corpse of a
hooker, the secret life of bees, and your mom. I don’t have kids, so I use my
back seat to hoard things. If you think
that’s bad, you should see my trunk.
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| Like this, but the opposite. |
But I digress.
First stop is Southwest Philly (which henceforth shall be
known as “Southwest” whereas the region I hail from is called “The County”) to
pick up a bag of personals for a friend in the hospital. Everything is going swimmingly. The girls are behaving, playing with each
other with minimal noise while Snap and I catch up. I’m at ease, enjoying the cool spring breeze
through the windows and singing along to the radio. We pull up in front of said friend’s house in
Southwest, Snap pops out and says “Be right back! Be good, girls!” I shoot a smile at Ruby and May in the
rearview mirror and listen to the chatter of innocents. The minutes tick by. The girls and I chat it up, their quick
little minds darting all over the place like a nipped-up cat chasing a string.
Snap gets back in, bag in tow. Peace continues to reign benevolently
throughout the Cavalier. But whispers of
discontent are beginning to emerge.
“Mommy, when are we going home?”
“Oooh, McDonald’s, I’m HUNGRY!”
“Ruby STOP! Moooom, she’s hitting me”
*malevolent giggles*
“OW May, that really hurt!”
*fake tears*
“GIRLS! KNOCK IT OFF!”
We pull up in front of the old Catholic hospital and I let
Snap out at the lobby.
“I promise, I shouldn’t be more than ten minutes.”
I find a parking spot miraculously within eyeshot of the
door and pull in. Backseat shenanigans
continue, but I try to keep redirecting them into thumb wars and not break-your-thumb
wars. I bust out the secret stash of
sour gummy whatevers I have in my console and pass them around, each of us
picking our favorite colors (I always bogard the blue ones). May takes purple and says they taste like
grape. Ten minutes pass, and then ten
minutes more. After that I lost track.
“Mooooommmmmmyyyyyyy!!!!!”
What. The. Fuck. My. Fucking. Ears. *various expletives that
would make a 13-year-old boy on Xbox Live blush*
Remain calm…glance in the rearview; see the subtle smirk
quirking at the corners of Ruby’s mouth.
“Ruby, hon, you can’t scream in the car like that. It hurts my ears.”
“MOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMYYYYYYYYYYYY”
Repeat.
“Ruby, stop it. You
know your mom is inside and can’t hear you.
You are hurting my ears besides.”
*giggles from the backseat*
“Ruby, if you don’t stop, I won’t take you girls to the park
this week.”
*return to former shenanigans*
My capacity to momentarily subdue a ten-year-old girl innervates
me with such a vast amount of unwarranted self-importance that the feeling
spills out and infects a pair of passing interns, causing them to think they
are Dr. Jonas Salk and Dr. Gregory House.
They went on to cause several patients irreparable harm (read: kill) due
to the experimental vaccination and incorrect (but wittily delivered!) diagnoses.
Eventually, Snap emerged from the hospital. As we drove, the girls nodded off, entering
that blissful and careless backseat sleep that only children are capable of
(adults being too busy worrying about their knees, the driver’s incompetence
and holding in burrito farts). Snap and
I relaxed, talking about grown up things without fear of sharp little ears and tactless
big mouths. The tires collected miles
while the checklist of errands became a list of accomplishments.
“Dude, I’m going to pee my pants, and I'm out of cigarettes. I need to stop somewhere.”
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| Very Important. |
It’s a little known fact that Wawa is the best place to take
a piss in public. The restrooms are the
cleanest in my experience; they frequently have those really good hand driers
that blast the fuck out of your hands AND paper towels, and there
is almost never anyone else in them.
They don’t have that weird public bathroom smell either. Strictly class. Plus, they have banging green tea and they
always have Camel Lights on sale.
I pulled into a Wawa and pee-pee danced my way into the
restroom. Cigarettes, tea and pee all
taken care of, I walk back to the parking lot and see two little girls
stretching beside my car. Just when I thought it was safe. Oh well, only a few more stops and they’re
rested. What could go wrong?
We all piled back in and pulled back into the river of
Friday rush hour. The girls are rarin’
to go again, but Snap and I are getting tired.
“Girls, stop” is the refrain. The
verses are “When are we going home?”, “I’m hungry!”, “Can you roll up the
window, I’m cold!”, and “Mooom, tell Ruby/May to stop hitting me!” This discordant
song swells as the day’s final destination approaches.
Snap walks into a store while I wait in the car with the
girls. The volume of their play is crescendoing
when:
“MOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMYYYYYYYYYY!!!”
Holy fucking Hell Jesus Mary and all the saints why? I touch my neck briefly to feel for the blood
I’m sure is pouring from my ears.
My head whips around so fast it’s still spinning in another
dimension.
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| Ruby in that same dimension. |
“Ruby, you have GOT to be kidding me. I’ve told you over and over today to stop
doing that. It hurts my ears and the car
is NOT a place to scream in.” I left off
“unless you’re about to crash into something”.
She’s only ten after all.
“MOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMYYYYYYYYYY!!!”
“RUBY, your mom is inside, she can’t hear you, STOP.”
“MOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMYYYYYYYYYY!!!”
“ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?”
“MOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMYYYYYYYYYY!!!”
*Flips radio volume up too loud*
“Oh my God, stop!
Turn that down now!”
“Ha ha, you don’t like it do you? How does it feel when something is too
loud? Aw, what’s wrong Ruby, you don’t
like it?”
Even louder: “MOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMYYYYYYYYYY!!!”
*Turns volume up further*
*Twisted up face (precursor to tears) appears*
“MOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMYYYYYYYYYY!!!”
*Turn volume up to max and start to sing along at top of
lungs*
“MOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMYYYYYYYYYY!!!”
“MOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMYYYYYYYYYY!!!”
“MOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMYYYYYYYYYY!!!”
“Oh my God, I HATE YOU.
You’re such a BRAT. I’m going to
tell my Mommy what you did.”
“Really Ruby, what are you going to tell her? That you wouldn’t stop screaming so I turned
the radio up? I’ll tell her myself when
she gets back, and she’ll say you shouldn’t have been screaming.”
*Tears commence*
“I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU YOU’RE MOMMY’S
WORST FRIEND YOU’RE SO STUPID YOU’RE SUCH A BRAT I HATE YOU!!!”
*Laughter roils up from my belly and spills into her tear
drenched face while the music blares against the windows*
“I’m a brat? What
does that make you?”
“I DON’T CARE, YOU’RE HORRIBLE, I HATE YOU, I’M NOT TALKING
TO YOU, I HATE YOU SO MUCH.”
“Awww, Ruby, you think I care if a ten-year-old hates
me? Are you trying to hurt my
feelings? That’s so cute.”
*Little feet start slamming into the back of the passenger’s
seat*
“Stop kicking my seat Ruby.
If you break it, it’s going to be your Mommy who has to pay for it. Do you really want to do that to her?”
*Slamming feet stop and full blown sobbing commences*
*Helena Beat comes on and I sing along*
Those fiery little snapdragons.
ReplyDeleteI'm scared to go back to Snap's house >.>
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