I only take Bug to the park in the rich people's neighborhood. I like the false sense of security it gives me. I figure if I do get attacked by a rapist or something, at least the people nearby who hear me screaming can afford a cell phone to call the police with. Today we went there so she could play, but mostly so I would have a nice place to push her stroller around and hopefully lose the last of my baby weight. I want to try to do something physical every day, especially right now before the weather turns to absolutely the hottest, dankest level of hell, with mosquitoes, which I expect to be sometime around June. I'm realistic about it though. Some days I have tons of time to walk or whatever, and others I only have time for 15 crunches here and a few push-ups there. I do what I can.
We've been to the rich park many times, and it's usually just a few kids and their Moms. Today there was a big play date going on, or something, because everyone seemed to know each other. There were a couple of nannies with their little rich-kid clients too. I walked with Bug all over the playground and listened to people's conversations, which is always entertaining. One Mom was discussing the neighbor who never feeds her kid before play dates, and so the kid eats her out of house and home when they come over. A nanny was complaining about the kid's Dad who only speaks Spanish when she's in the room, because he knows she doesn't understand him, and he's an asshole and she suspects he was having an affair with the last nanny. THAT was a good one, but she was talking too quietly for me to hear much else. As we walked across the bridges and went down slides, all the other kids were running around us, many of them annoyed that a baby was on their playground getting in their way. I, of course, didn't give two shits if they didn't like it. Half of them were playing cops and robbers, the others were playing "cougar", which appeared to be a version of tag where the person who's "it" is a cougar. Duh.
I kept noticing one little boy, about 4, who was being very difficult no matter where he was or what he was doing. First he didn't want to play cougar with everyone because he coudn't always be the cougar and kill everybody. Then he didn't want to play cops and robbers because he didn't want to be a robber. Then he layed on the slide and wouldn't let anyone go down. His nanny put him in time-out. When it was over, he came out and sat sulking in the tube where Bug likes to climb into. She approached the tube and saw him, got a big smile and pointed at him. The boy looked up sharply at her and leaned backward in offense that we were there. I looked down at Bug and said, "Say hi, Bug!" And that little shit looked at me and said, "My name's not BUG, stupid." Okayyyy.....What I said out loud was, "I know, sweetie, HER name is Bug, and I was just helping her to be friendly and say hi." What I said in my head was, "No shit, you little twat, why don't you go fuck right off and do us all a favor. Nice haircut." Luckily the boy's nanny took him home soon after.
Then I remembered all the times I wanted to kill dickhead children when Gage was a little guy. I had forgotten about that sickly, angry feeling you get when other people's kids are mean to your own. It's terrible and I always feel guilty for wanting to punt a 4 year old, but those Mommy protective instincts are a bitch to think rationally through. I specifically remember one time when Gage was about 4, and we lived in this super ghetto apartment complex. He was playing outside with some of the neighbor kids and I was on the patio, and all of a sudden he comes through the slider door, crying and reaching for me. He said that James ran over his arm with his bike. I flipped out and checked his arm to make sure it wasn't broken, which it wasn't, and was barely even scratched, just had some tire marks on it. I think the muddy grass was soft enough that his arm just sunk into it rather than break in half. Gage kept saying, "Why would he be mean to me, Mommy? Why would someone hurt you ON PURPOSE?" My poor, sweet little boy who shared everything with everyone and sometimes even gave his toys away, couldn't even comprehend why a person would purposely try to hurt someone. I WAS RED HOT MAD. I knew of James, he was in Gage's kindergarten class, and was a year or two older (Gage started Kinder at 4). His parents were the gangsters that lived around the corner to us, and they were not the kind of people I felt comfortable confronting about this incident. James terrorized the whole neighborhood, and even the older kids left the playground when he was around. I went outside and asked another kid what happened, and he confirmed Gage's story and told me James was hiding at the volleyball courts.
I left Gage at home with his consolation Popsicle and walked down to the volleyball courts in a blind rage. For reals. I had tunnel vision. I don't think I even knew what I was going to do if I found that kid. I was just...hunting. When I finally saw him on his little Wal-Mart Schwinn knockoff, I started walking faster. He was riding in circles around the volleyball sandpit. As I got closer, he saw me and started pedaling faster because he knew I was after him, but he didn't get far due to there being only one way out. I ran up and grabbed him, one hand on the bike and the other on his shirt. And then I told him very calmly in his ear that if he ever touched Gage again, I would tell his parents and call the cops on him, and he'd go to jail and never see his family again. I really said that. No, I'm not proud of it! But it happened. And James never even looked at Gage or his friends again. In hindsight, it was not just an asshole move on my part, scaring a little boy who's home life was probably already scary enough, but it was also a very dangerous move given who the kid's parents were associated with. I have never done anything like that since, and I never will, but I have totally thought about it. I just hope Bug is a little more ruthless in her young life than my son was so I don't have to use every ounce of strength in me to stop myself from scaring the holy hell out of the kids in the neighborhood. Not that I would allow her to be a bully, I just want her to have the presence about her to make the bullies stay away to begin with.
In other news, I've been looking into Mommy-and-Me classes we can do, for fun but also to socialize us both. There are options but for most of them she has to be 18 months old, and that's not until August. That will be a whole other issue, since I don't like other Mothers. They're like women only worse. Well okay....Women are generally alright if they are over 27 but under 50, have a vice that is slightly out-of-control, low-level jobs, are in school, or at least spent most of their life as such, are out of shape, and don't feel the world owes them anything. The age thing is give or take, I just find that most women who fit my criteria end up in that group. The exception to that rule is if they are super hot and mostly naked and don't talk. Ugh, that sounded like I'm sexist and a hater, didn't it? Oh well. It's better than threatening four year-olds.
I leave you with Bug and I at the beach the other day. It was only 60 outside, hence the sweater. Bug had a ton of fun though, and we plan to spend as much of the summer here as possible. If I have to be in the south during summer, you can bet your ass it'll be on the most beautiful beach on this side of the country. POOR ME...hahaha