Monday, May 24, 2010

Excuse me, do you have a death wish?

What is up with people actin' a fool?!

Too Much Drama for This Mama
First off, in the last few weeks, I have seen/read more drama on Facebook than I care to. I do not understand people "callin each other out" on Facebook. Do they get some sort of satisfaction from 'outing' one another, or from trying to get the last word via comments? It is SO immature. Keep your two cents to yourself, if it's not nice. Chances are, what you say isn't really worth two cents anyways.... AND you look like a 4 year old.

Keep your hands and your breath to yourself, if you wanna keep them.
I am not supposed to have Lennon out of the house. However, I ran out of coffee the other day and I nearly killed someone. So, I had to leave and get coffee. Of course, I did not leave My Bug in the house alone. I took her with me, and I did not leave her in the car.... so get CPS off your speed dial. (I called them CPA one time. Not nearly as threatening.) I took her in Brookshires... and as soon as I set her carrier down to pull out a buggy from the buggy barn, this bag boy runs over, and picks up her carrier and starts trying to help me get her in the buggy. As much as I appreciate his need to feel useful, I didn't want his grubby hands on my carrier! I snatched, err, took the carrier from him and said, "Thanks, but I got it" and refrained from calling him Helpy Helpsalot. Moving on to the coffee aisle, I quickly grabbed the coffee beans I wanted and sped down the aisle over to the refrigerated creamer section. Trying to avoid all the Germ Zombies buying groceries. I swear it's like people have this crazy look in their eye when they see a baby... Like they want to eat her or sneeze on her. With a quickness, I searched for the specific kind of creamer I wanted. I took my eyes off the buggy for a millisecond only to hear this feeble old voice, "Ohhh! He is brand new! How old?" With a snarl, I grabbed the creamer I wanted, turned to the woman with her face literally in the carrier with Lennon, and growled, "SHE is 7 weeks, now if you will excuse me" and started to push the buggy away, nearly taking her blue hair with me, when she said, "Oh, she is 7 months? She is little." Ignoring her and the fact that she didn't catch on to my reference to WEEKS, I pushed toward the aisle to pay for my goods and get out of Germville ASAP. My blood pressure is up at this point, not from running around the grocery store like I am on Super Market Sweep but because I am PARANOID of people and their germs! I was handing the cashier my debit card when I look over to see Helpy Helpsalot trying to talk to Lennon. "She is a new baby huh? She your only one? How old is she?" I pushed Lennon out of his way so that I was standing between he and Lennon now. "She is seven weeks, and I also have a 4 year old son.... do you want my address and social security number also, Mr Nosey Britches?" OK, so I didn't say the last part but I thought it. He carried my groceries as I pushed the buggy with Lennon. I am not sure why he thought I needed him to carry coffee and creamer. I was pretty sure I had that covered. But I obliged. I left Brookshires', all but squealing tires, and pretty much prayed that God would come down like a giant can of Lysol and cover Lennon. I just don't get people sometimes. I mean, I don't do that to other people's babies. Surely I am normal and they are all crazy. Don't these people realize messing with a newborn and her momma is like signing their Death Wish in blood. There are no take backs! Especially when this mama has been up all night doing middle of the night feedings and woke up to no coffee in the house.

Ok, I am off my soapbox, now. Rehashing that story got me all fired up... I need a cup of coffee to calm my nerves now.

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