So anyway, along with divorce, comes a shit ton bit of paperwork, something I generally would pat-pat myself on the back and say I am pretty good at. HOW CUTE AM I?!?!???!!
Insert me getting hit by the pizza delivery guy, having to call the police, while the police are running my registration (holla – neva had a ticket, you guys run whatever you want!) watching said pizza delivery guy air hump the police while they are not looking. And then this…
Police: “Is your last name Scheibleve”
Me: “That is my ex-husbands name, yes.”
Police: “Ah, miss, this car has a revoked registration, we are going TO NEED TO TAKE YOUR PLATES.”
Me: “Ah, the sticker is still right there, and that piece of paper is in my little glove box, and I have never had a ticket, duh.” Guess that is not how it works.
Pause. Pause and remember that pizza guy is now making blow job face while simultaneously air humping and I am discussing my revoked registration, while my sweet baby pug looks at me like “Um, we go home?” WHO KNEW THAT I HAD TO TAKE CARE OF THIS?!?!!? IT WAS ALWAYS “MY” CAR. At any rate, apparently you can’t drive your car when it doesn’t have plates. Rules, rules, rules.
Fast forward to today (there is a LOAD of other nonsense, but let’s focus on today).
Today, I had to go to this place of bliss.
Yup, that’s right, jellyarentcha? Now, understand something….. As a parent, you really get limited time to yourself. As a single parent, there is not a god damn fucking second that someone isn’t trying to climb back in the womb. Sometimes I lock myself in the bathroom at work just to think alone. you get quite a bit less. So there was a part of me, that was a lil excited to have a coffee, some Panera and this, some smut to make me feel smarter than Kim K light reading.
When all of the sudden, I see the exact opposite mother than I am in a dead sprint with her “mommy hook” swinging in the breeze from the handlebar of her stroller, heading right toward me. (Insert what I mean by “exact opposite.” What I mean, is she WAS wearing Tevas, was NOT wearing a bra and had one of these.
You need to understand, that it is a legit god damn miracle my children have made it this far, and that can only be emphasized by the fact that I did not even CONSIDER ever putting that god forsaken sex repellant sticker on my stroller.
I tried to do everything I could, look busy, act like I was reading some very important financial documents, burp, peed in my pants, anything. And, low and behold, she sits. DOESN’T SHE EVER HAVE TO HIDE IN THE OFFICE BATHROOM????? I can’t possibly be the only one.
There was about 5 minutes of this: “We didn’t plan him but love him, I like walking, do you like walking, he is so advanced, he pulls himself up.” Can’t. Legit fucking can’t. When this happens.
Yup, apparently, because we both have boobs, we should talk about breastfeeding. It didn’t stop. It actually got worse. She used words like “suckle.” IN THE MIDDLE OF THE RMV. How could she not understand I was here for some peace and quiet?!? This is basically a fucking vacation for me. I even self served a mimosa.
I somehow manage to escape her mommy la leache league cult grip and move seats. She follows me. She 100% follows me. And then this:
SHE HANDED ME HER CHILD. I had never hated that air humping pizza delivery guy more than that moment. You need to understand, I love MY children. MINE. I don’t really care for others, and the ones that still projectile vomit and shit themselves, I honestly want nothing to do with. I don’t even want to deal with MY projectile vomit and shit. Not that it happens, but IF it did….. She was saying things like “She’s a mommy, she loves you.” No. I actually don’t. I am hardly even tolerating you.
I was 100% pitting just sitting there, holding some stranger on my lap, waiting for A106 to flash on the screen, while she said things like “He loves to bounca bounca bounce, isn’t he SO good at bouncing.” Yes teva wearing, braless lady. Best god damn bouncer eva. I don’t think she realized I was about to bounce her ass to Delaware when A106 finally flashed and I said “Thank you sweet fucking baby Christmas Jesus I will always pray and go to church and I am not even lying this time.” “Here IT is.”
It took everything I had in me to not respond, “Oh, I am sorry, your little suckeler” (is that a word?).
I hate that fucking pizza guy.