I will start at the beginning, since that seems to be the best place for most stories (but not all) to start. I had penciled in today to hang out with my friend Jason, whom I haven't seen since Dante's birthday party, and that's a stretch, since I was playing hostess. So we met up here and went to Little Anita's. Sure, some of you in ABQ may make fun of me, but it's the closest taste of home that I have.
So we had a great lunch, and then, since it's raining, we went to Barnes and Noble to take a look around and get Dante a new book. We had the privilege of listening to a group of young musicians that were armed with a violin and a couple cellos, and Dante danced! He was very excited! (So was I, to be honest!)
So I got him a new $5 book, and then we decided it would be best to get home and hit the Starbucks here so I could then put Dante down for his nap, and it got us away from the temptation that IS Barnes and Noble.
We ordered our coffee, and sat down. Dante decided that it was too close to naptime to be trusted, so I put him in his stroller. He then decided that he was going to yell MAMA at the top of his lungs, and I tried to turn it into a game. Finally, after Jason finished his coffee, Dante's whining was hitting a fever pitch, and I was getting our stuff together to go. As I was winding down our conversation, this rude woman decided to ask if we could leave. She proceeded to tell me (essentially) that her work was more important than my visit with my friend. My knee jerk response was to apologize for her homelessness, since she obviously had nowhere else to go, and then she informed me that she didn't have kids for a reason. My response? Thank the gods, since only they know how horribly her children would be treated. Then, as a parting shot when we left, I said goodbye to one of my favorite baristas, then walked out saying "Bye, raving bitch!"
So then Jason and I went outside and made fun of her and simultaneously pitied her. That poor woman will probably wait until she's unable to have kids to finally decide she wants them, and it would be a recreation of Idiocracy, if it weren't for mine and my husbands decision to have kids.
In short, here is the diatribe I wish I would have said:
I am so sorry that my visit with a friend I rarely see is less important than you finding the cure for hangnails. I am also very sorry that you don't have the glorious, unconditional love that this child gives me every day. I am very sorry that you don't get to rediscover the magic of markers and construction paper. I can't imagine living without my son's sloppy kisses, or his dancing, or the overwhelming peace that washes over me when he rests his gorgeous head on my shoulder. It's probably a good thing you don't have children, since they require love, attention, and patience. They require you to set aside trivial things that you enjoy for trivial things they enjoy. I would love the opportunity to sit at a Starbucks on a gloomy day and judge others in peace and quiet, but instead I get to be judged by a woman who will probably never enjoy the magic of bubbles or the joy of watching a two year old dance to the Sesame Street theme song. So get on with your important work, while I get on with mine.
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