Wednesday, January 07, 2009

Bitch-fight at the Happiest Place on Earth...

When Mr. Lady asks, you deliver.

Comment I left on her post:

"Isn't it fun being a woman?

She had it coming. Unless one of those kids was in a wheelchair or crutches, there is NO excuse! And even then, there are handicapped spots!

I have only gone off on another mother once or twice. One time at Disney World. World of magic and love and all.. I'll have to write about that. I am very proud of that bitchfest."

Email she sent back:

"Oh god, I HAVE to hear that! Awesomeness!"

And since I adore her blog and think she's a Way Groovy Cool Chick, I will obey....


June 2007, Patrick and I took the kids on vacation to Orlando, to experience the joy and magic that is Disney World. You can read about it here, if you want the gory details of flying with 3 kids, dealing with a 7 year old having anger issues as a medication side effect, and needing your husband to run out at 2 am more than once. Ah... Memories.

But this post has a purpose. THIS post is all about me, me, ME. And my ability to come out of my Nicey-nice shell and actually be a BEEEyatch.

I know, I know. I am generally a nice person. I believe that ignoring a bully will stop feeding their need for attention. I believe that violence, be it physical or verbal, is never a way to solve a problem (though my kids would argue that I am less than sweet with them...). So I generally am not the person you would expect to see on Jerry Springer waggling my fingers and giving the hand to someone who has "wronged" me. It is this very fact that makes my story is so fascinating to me...

Our first day in Disney was just us and the kids. The entire family was sticky and hot. Shoot, the entire park was sticky and hot! June+Florida+popsicles = Big Gooey Expensive Mess.

I was incredibly proud of our ability to get to the parade route early. We got a perfect spot right up on the curb. I settled Patrick in with the stroller and the 2 little ones and headed off with Justin to find a treat and some more liquids. After settling on some big lollipops (because we weren't sticky enough, apparently) that didn't break my wallet, we picked our way through the now packed sidewalk area towards Daddy and the other kids.

You can imagine my surprise when I saw my husband and kids, and noticed a woman with her 2 large boys sitting on the curb in front of our stroller!

non-verbal eyebrow communication between me and Patrick went something like:

Tracey :Wha? Why is she there?

Patrick: I don't know. They just sat there...

Tracey: Why didn't you do something about it?

Patrick: Wha? Why are you twitching your eyebrows at me? Does the left one up mean something different than the right one?

Tracey: Why can't you figure out my non-verbals by now? Don't you realize that the right one up means "I'm ticked" and the left one up means "EW" and BOTH up mean "I can't believe what I'm seeing" ??

Patrick: She's still waggling her eyebrows at me. Dude. I. Am. Lost. Oooh! She bought lollipops!

Ok. Obviously our non-verbal skills needed some fine-tuning. I took it upon myself to solve this problem and calmly told the woman that our children had been waiting for the parade and wouldn't be able to see over her kids heads. She waved her hand at me and said that they were so tired and needed to sit down for a bit. That they would move in a few minutes (even though the parade was about to start). Obviously I was unaware that there wasn't another single seat anywhere on the parade route and that her children were more important than mine were...

I only paused for a moment as she began to turn back to the parade route and push her way in front of my stroller again. I KNEW that if they stayed any longer, my kids wouldn't be able to see ANYthing and that the space we had been saving for our OWN children to sit upon would be lost. Justin was beginning to lose his patience and THAT could have meant an entire day of tantrums for my family...

"Excuse me, ma'am. But my kids are tired, too. And we have been waiting here for quite some time. Please have your children move. We will not be able to see the parade unless you leave."

See? Still being polite. STILL being nice and giving the woman the benefit of the doubt that she didn't realize she was being incredibly rude.

Until she had the audacity to say that I was making a "big deal" of things. That her kids would move as soon as they had finished sitting down and then she rolled her eyes at me.

Oh yes she DID.

Something inside of me snapped. I could almost hear it...

Thousands of dollars to come on vacation. To suffer the heat and crowds. To deal with a sick baby and manage to keep everyone fairly happy for 6 straight hours and you're going to roll your eyes at me???

"Look, LADY. We have ALL been waiting here for a long time. ALL of our kids want to enjoy it and we are ALL on vacation. Your kids need to move, NOW. "

I may have sworn a bit.... Patrick might remember... But I do know that I was shaking my hand in the air to emphasize each word and that the people around me had backed off a bit. Waiting for a cat fight, no doubt. I remember the extreme rush of adrenaline I had as I let the emotions take over and set the anger free. I had put my foot down and there was no WAY I was letting that horrid woman push in front of MY family at the happiest place on Earth, Damnit!

She huffed and puffed but finally left. And I was left feeling... strange. Powerful and strong, yes. But embarrassed, angry, and amazed that I just had an argument with a STRANGER. Over where her kids were going to sit on a parade route.

Patrick just looked at me, eyebrows up and mouth open. For I do NOT do public confrontations. He and I can definitely argue, but I do not fit into that stereotype of a loud Italian woman. I am extremely emotional and usually end up crying if I get angry enough to shout at someone.

We watched the parade and it was worth it. A fun day was had by all of us, but I felt incredibly nervous all day that I would run into that woman, and have to finish what I started....

There you have it. My Disney Bitch-out.
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