Things That Just Tick Me Off...

Last weekend, I had to run some errands. K. took Ethan to buy t-ball stuff -- apparently, that's a father-son thing, so Laney and I headed off for some mother-daughter quality time to -- what else??? -- shop!

Side note -- will probably have lots of funny stories about E playing t-ball as this is his first time, and he's a small man-child. Which reminds me -- funny story about taking Ethan for 4K testing... I'll have to come back to that one...

Back to things that make me angry...

We ran into Hamrick's to pick up hairbows for Laney. She's finally grown enough hair to pull up in some sort of hair gadget, and Hamrick's has cute ribbons for really cheap. It was a little cool and windy, but not cold.

Now, Laney has a really bad habit of kicking off whatever shoes/socks/foot coverings we put on her. This particular morning, we'd already lost one sock while engaging in retail therapy, so I just decided, as I was getting her out, that I would forgo the socks until we got back into the car so as to avoid having to keep up with them in the store.

I hurried into the store, Laney on my hip -- dressed in long sleeves and long pants, thank you very much.

As we blew into the store, we swept past the herd of elderly folk that gather at the door. I was talking to Laney quietly when I hear this old biddy say (loudly):

"That girl needs to put some socks and shoes on that baby."

Oh, Good Lord. Please make me temporarily mute so that I don't say something I'll regret.

NOTICE TO ALL: For the love of all that is sacred in this world, don't give me unsolicited advice.

First, why don't you stick to worrying about whether or not your SAS shoes are untied?!?! Regardless of how it seems, I don't have issues with older folks -- normally. In fact, this applies to people of any age -- don't talk to me like I'm three unless you want to see me throw a knock-down, drag-out tantrum.

Ask K -- he did that once while we were dating, and (this is what he tells me -- it's all a blur of red to me in my memory) I got down in a three point stance and tried to tackle him...

Second, if these wizards could tell me how to keep shoes and socks on Baby Sock Satan, I'd be glad to hear it. Better yet, if they're willing to sponsor our family for a sock drive, I'd put socks on that kid 24/7, even when she's in the bathtub.

Third, it's not Antarctica, and she's not trudging for miles in the snow. She's not going to lose a foot to frostbite, and we're going to be back in the toasty MV with a blanket over her legs in about 10 minutes. Cool your jets, Granny. Your blood's thin; Laney is a healthy little hamhock. She can withstand a fleeting exposure to minimally cool temps.

Fourth, back in the day, kids didn't have socks to wear all the time. You're 97 1/2 -- you should remember those times. Don't act like I'm some derelict, neglectful mother just because I don't have socks on my child right this minute. I will tie a knot in your support hose -- you don't know me like that.

Finally (at least in this rant) -- mind your own dadgum business! Nobody hired you to be a public service announcer. Keep your opinions and observations to yourself... If you must share, tell Thelma sitting there next to you -- and if she's hard of hearing, write it down so everybody else doesn't have to listen and you don't unknowingly launch some harried mother like myself into a fit of apopletic rage.

Unfortunately for him, a man who was waiting for his mother-in-law at the dressing room made the same comment. I do have delayed reaction syndrome normally, but I'd been stewing about the biddies' comments for about 15 minutes, so he incurred my icy wrath. I didn't make a huge scene (thank you, thank you -- those of you who know my temper will be impressed as rage often = loud in my kingdom), but I politely pointed out that if he had some pearl of wisdom that he could share or if he was, in fact, willing to traipse behind me, searching for discarded socks, I'd have been glad to go out to the car and put her socks on right that minute.

I'm not sure if it was the frigid tone of my response or the fact that my head was spinning 360 as pea soup flew from my mouth or what, but he was strangely more pleasant post-tantrum...