Thanks A Lot, Old Folks

Warning, you are going to read some profanity and glaring generalizations in this post. I don’t care. I am PISSED.

Today is our third full day in Florida, and poor Paigers woke up with a tummy ache and a fever this morning. Here’s the good part about being in Florida versus Indianapolis on a day like today: we were able to head out this morning with Botsie, take a nice long walk outside and just soak up some Vitamin D and fresh air. Instead of being stuck in our basement, driving each other crazy, soaking up dust and Nick Jr. (Poor Paige even fell asleep in the stroller on our walk! It’s been YEARS since she did that!)

So, the girls went down for an early nap – around 12:30 this afternoon. Blair woke up around 3:30 and she and I decided to head to the grocery together. This was mostly decided by her, because at this point in the day (every day) she pretty much likes to be held by me from the time she wakes up from her nap until her daddy gets home. Then she likes to be held by him.

Off to Publix we went – she was reading me her book, I rolled our windows down and turned up the radio. All in all it was looking like a fun outing (yes, I realize it was just the grocery store – but when your kids are little you can still call this an ‘outing’. Plus, I can make pretty much anything fun. I’m kind of awesome like that.).

We got to the store and waited for a parking spot (seriously, Grandpa? Just park in the spot two feet further away rather than making us all wait 10 minutes while YOU wait for the other one to open up.). I got Blair out and we smiled at the woman sitting in the parked car next to us (remember this fact for future use).

Then, we started to weave in-between parked cars to get into the store. And it happened.

I tripped over a parking barrier. I never even saw it coming – it wasn’t painted, and was mostly covered by the car in the spot next to me. In fact, I’ve been in this parking lot MULTIPLE times and never even noticed they were there. (Also a fact, I had to ask my dad what they were called. Because I used to be smart like that. And then I had kids.)

Here’s the thing. Rarely do I ever just trip and stumble. I fall ALL. THE. WAY. DOWN. Like, tumble.  Ass over tea-kettle, if you will. In fact, my older brother has mentioned that he has never actually seen a grow-up fall all the way down as much as I do. (Also a fact, I am currently nursing a huge bruise on my knee from falling down the stairs in a store last weekend. Sober, folks. No excuse.)

Here’s the other thing – remember that I was carrying my baby at the time today. Yes, she might be almost 2, but she is my baby. In fact, both of my girls are my babies. I fell to the ground, scraped both knees up, lost part of a toenail, scraped the side of a foot and banged my elbow. Which doesn’t even matter.

Because Blair hit her head. On the ground. And was SCREAMING and crying hysterically (which is really what I felt like doing too). I also don’t think my cramming her into my chest to hug her and make sure she was okay did much to calm her. Also, come to think of it, the panicked look on my face probably didn’t help much either.

And do you know what? The parking lot was full of people.

And not One. Single. Asshole stopped to see if we were okay.

DID I TELL YOU THE PARKING LOT WAS FULL?!?! It was almost 4:00 on a Friday afternoon, which in retired/semi-retired land is DANGEROUSLY close to cocktail hour (okay, in stay at home mom land, too. Not judging that part – just painting a picture here.).

Folks, it’s not as if no one noticed. People were actually WALKING by us, looking, making eye contact for Christ’s sake (sorry Jesus, I told you I was pissed – you understand, because you would have stopped), looking away and walking on. One of those people? A freaking PUBLIX EMPLOYEE! Yep. Looked at me, maybe looked a tad concerned, then carried on with his obviously critical job of collecting grocery carts.

Oh, and remember the woman I mentioned? The one sitting in the car? PARKED NEXT TO US? Nothing. Nada. Not even a pretend-concerned-mouthed ‘are you okay?’ Because, guess what? We’re not.

Listen, I understand your lives are hard. You live in Longboat Key, Florida where once or twice a week there might be a cloud or two in the sky. You work hard all day playing golf/tennis/boccie ball/searching for shells on the beach. Normally, I wouldn’t judge you. Chances are very high that you spent the bulk of your life actually working hard so you can do this now.

But, seriously? That gives you the right to be a total ASSHAT and not even care about other people? That gives you the right to walk past a woman and her small child sitting on the ground, with one of them bleeding and one of them crying? Not necessarily in that order?

No. No it abso-fucking-lutely does not. You are probably a grandparents, jerks. Think about how you would feel if this happened to your daughter and granddaughter. You would probably want to kick some serious geriatric ass. And you would be right to both feel that way AND kick some ass (or Depends … which probably would lessen the blow somewhat).

Blair and I continued inside and got our shopping done. Luckily one of our good friends was there to tell me that she agreed, those people WERE assholes (LOVE you Laura Mutz), and she gave me a hug. Which is probably the only thing that kept me from completely losing it when I noticed the scrapes on Blair’s scalp. (What a trouper she is. If that had been Paige, we would have had to leave immediately and go home. And by ‘home,’ I mean all the way back to Indiana.)

And you know what? Just to show that I wasn’t a total douchebag (albeit a slightly foul-mouthed mommy), Blair and I unloaded our cart and walked it ALL the way back up to the store rather than leave it in the parking lot, where it might roll into either the Porsche, Rolls-Royce, Mercedes/Jaguar/Lexus convertible or perhaps the Alfa Romeo parked in the one of the 300 Handicapped spots around me.

You know why? Because I’m not a dick.

Which is a hell of a lot more than I can say for anyone else in that parking lot today.

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