Standing in the pharmacy pick-up line at CVS, I felt slightly amused but mostly agitated at the middle age man at the counter loudly complaining that his testosterone prescription wasn’t ready yet. “What do you expect me to do?” he fumed to the pre-pubescent looking female pharmistist. “I think you need to call your doctor,” she meekly replied, before he stormed off in a huff.
My turn.
Spouting out my name and date of birth, I hinted in my tart tone that I was pretty perturbed I had to wait in line with two kids, that the drive thru was mysteriously closed, and I only had a few more minutes before my toddler was going to start pulling Gas-X off the shelves and hurling them across the aisles.
“While I’m here, I’d like to drop off this prescription too,” I mumbled while handing a crinkled paper to sweet looking girl.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, looking up at me with these deep baby Bambi eyes. “You need to go to the other line for drop offs.”
Oh no she didn’t…
“Wait, what? I’ve been in line for 15 minutes. I’ve got two kids here and I don’t have time to go back into another line. You have got to be kidding me!”
“I’m sorry,” she said as tears welled up in her eyes.
And that’s when it struck me.
When did I turn into such a mean, angry mom?
I’m that mean mom now. That mom who “doesn’t have time for this crap, who can’t take any more, who doesn’t care what you think.” I’m the mom who goes into the store like a lit rocket, ready to plow through anything and anyone who gets in my way because I only have 10 minutes until I told the sitter I’d be back home. I’m the mom who’s always a victim — highway traffic, the parking lot with no good spots left, and the slow person in front of me at the grocery store — certain that everyone’s out to get me.
Get out of my freakin way, people. I have more important things to do! Right?
Being a mom is the most important job in the world. Everyone tells us that. But since when does that make some of us feel so entitled and justified for being a jerk?
I get no special treatment for having little kids tugging at my pant legs while I shop. Why do I feel like I should? I chose this life. The guy in front of me at Starbucks ordering coffee for himself and his six closest friends had nothing to do with my family planning.
And yet I feel justified in glaring him down with my icy stare, crossing my arms in disdain, and sharing my frustration with the barista taking my order, as if she too has an agenda against me.
And when people do cater to me — the nice lady who let me go in front of her at the store because my toddler was hitting me with a box of Cheese-Its, or the waitress who tried to speed up our food order because we we’re teetering on naptime — I dismiss it. Hell, I practically expect it.
Not all moms are like this. I have many friends who go with the flow. They seem immune to road rage, they welcome the opportunity to walk a few extra feet in the parking lot, and they’re just generally nicer, and friendlier overall.
But us mean moms? We need to CTFD. No one died and made us more special or important than the rest of the world. We aren’t entitled to anything because we spread our legs a couple of times at just the right time of the month. And contrary to our common belief, everyone isn’t out to get us. They’re all just living life, same as us.
Moms deserve a lot of credit for all that we do. We are crucial to helping raise the next generation. And frankly, a lot of the insanely important things we do fly under the radar and go undetected. But we kinda signed up for this high-expectation and low-paying par-tay. So just because we haven’t gotten a full night sleep in two and half years and we have spaghetti sauce in our hair, there is no excuse to be an asshole. Nope. Never.
And remember that our kids are watching and absorbing everything. What do we want them to learn from our behavior? How to be a turd? Or, more likely, how to roll with punches while maintaining our composure and dignity? I choose the latter.
Think about that the next time you want to flip the bird on the guy driving 15 miles below the speed limit, or the lady who doesn’t hold the door for you when you’re carrying two kids and a backpack. Make a good impression for your kids and show some patience and kindness. It’s the right thing to do.
For the CVS girl, for our kids and for ourselves, let’s all agree not to be the angry mom.
Haha! This is so good and so true 🙂