If you’ve ever met me, you’d probably describe me as pretty laid back. Heck, you can probably that tell from my blog posts.
So when I tell you I got out my Mama Bear claws at a gas station on the way to Bloggy Boot Camp, you’ll probably be surprised.
I know I was.
But that’s what happens when people mess with your kids.
It Started with Puke
Just like so many other mommy moments, it started with a bodily function. Big Roo sometimes gets sick on roadtrips. I didn’t really think about it too much until this incident, but he actually gets sick every two or three roadtrips. He starts complaining of a tummy ache, then it turns to puking.
This time, we were about two hours into our four hour trip when it happened. As he threw up, I unconsciously extended my hand to the backseat to catch it. Um, ewwww? Looking around for a bag of some sort, I grabbed our paper Chick Fil A bag still full with empty boxes from our lunch. He puked while I held in. Daddy Roo looked for a place to pull off.
About the exact time, he pulled into a gas station, I noticed my jeans were sorta wet. And in my best Valley girl voice I said, “Oh My Gah… it’s dripping on my legs!”
Yes, puke dripped through the bag. It was lovely.
I ran and threw it away quickly, then grabbed Big Roo’s pink bear Burt and a fresh pair of jeans for both of us. We trotted off to the gas station restroom, which had just one stall per gender.
That little detail started all the trouble.
Pretty much as soon as we walked into the restroom and locked the door, someone shook the door. No big deal. Just checking to see if anyone was in there.
First, I washed Burt off and sat him on the sink. Then, I got the “extra bits” off our pants and we both changed into new ones. I went to the bathroom so we wouldn’t have to stop again too. All of that took about five minutes.
As I was gathering the pile of pukey pants, the door shook again and I heard rumbling on the other side.
And So It Begins
I swung open the door to a redneck lady impatiently waiting for her turn. Normally I would have just walked by her… or even apologized for taking so long.
But I tell you the look on her face just did me in. Mama Bear claws came OUT!
“My kid was puking! What was I SUPPOSED TO DO?” I snapped, holding up the pukey pants for full effect. I mean, isn’t it obvious something went down when you walk out of a public restroom with a preschooler while holding a pile of jeans in your hands? Apparently not.
It didn’t even phase her. She retorted something to the effect of “Well I REALLY had to go!” And then brushed past me to get into the restroom.
I can’t remember what I said next but oh boy I sure wasn’t done. I turned around while my Mama Bear mouth continued on at her.
And then. And then…
And Then It Got Worse
Kinda like in slow mo, as I was turning around and she was shutting the door, I stopped dead. I noticed Burt sitting on the sink. Yes, the same lovey that we almost lost at Toys R Us two years ago.
“My son’s bea–”
The redneck lady shut the door in my face AS I WAS REACHING TOWARD it. I guess I figured I could hold the door a sec while she threw me the bear that was just one foot away from her.
Instead, I hear the deadbolt go CLICK and she shouts, “YOU CAN WAIT TWO MINUTES!”
This seriously isn’t happening.
At this point, my Mama Bear fierceness fled.
I just started crying. Poor Big Roo just held my hand and stared at me with concern. I touched the top of his said and assured him it was okay.
Waiting for the men’s restroom, a boy about eight years old stood there staring at me for a second before he said, “I’m sorry about my mom. She’s been holding it for a while.”
Now that’s just a sad story. A poor kid having to apologize for his bitchy redneck mom. I had to pity him because I’m sure his home life isn’t that grand.
A couple of minutes later, redneck lady opens the door. She sees me crying which I think phased her for about a millisecond. Then she did the I’m-still-gonna-be-angry-so-I-show-I’m-not-weak move and got all snarky.
“I SAID it’d just be a couple of minutes,” she snarked.
Yeah, a couple of minutes so you could confront me again and so I had to stand there with pukey pants and a confused child. That’s some two minutes.
She left. We grabbed Burt and walked to the car.
I had to go back in and grab some bags from the cashier in case Big Roo got sick again.
It made me feel a little better that the cashier apologized for what happened (even though she didn’t have to since she can’t really control CRAZY REDNECKS). She told me that someone told her what happened and if she’d had known, she’d have asked the lady to leave.
I’m not sure if there’s any lesson to this story. Motherhood has made me bolder for sure. It’s pretty much a requirement to stick up for our kids when crazy rednecks go off on you at gas stations.
I’m quite sure I’ll see my Mama Bear claws again.