Yeah I just referenced a semi-crap Charlie Sheen movie with my title...what of it?
Okay, so it has been really beautiful outside in Mid-Mo so we've been spending quite a bit of time at the playground, prompting my second edition. Here we go:
1. While smoking may make you look/feel cool at a bar or french cafe, it is inappropriate for a playground. Seriously? Do I have to point this out? Okay, so let me start by saying at one point in my more foolish life, I smoked. I know, I know, it's bad for you. That's why I don't do it anymore. That, and I cannot stand listening to my sister bitch at me for even one more second in this lifetime. Love you sis. Anyway, there was a woman sitting in the playground area smoking a cigarette that was wafting very rudely right over where my precious, pink-lunged baby was playing on the slide. Smoking is a choice that you are more than welcome to make on your own time, but don't do it around my kid, please. Also, don't bury your cigarette butt in the playground mulch, for the love of God.
2. The sandbox is for playing, not bragging. While Claire was very timidly trying to join in with some other children to "build a road," I had the pleasure of listening to two sets of parents brag back and forth about where they had gotten their child accepted for the coming term. I also learned that Vietnam is lovely this time of year as they were also bragging about their most recent vacation. Tickets to Vietnam are apparently $2,000 a piece. Wow, I'm so glad you're sharing this information while your child runs mine over with his dump truck. I also learned the pros and cons of using a Kindle as your travel guide and that iPads are far superior for this task. Thank God I had on my sunglasses so they couldn't see me roll my eyes.
3. When enjoying a cookie on the swings, it is not necessary to leave part of it behind for the next swinger. There is nothing I like more than finding soggy cookie stuck to my child's butt. It is even more delightful when said cookie was made soggy by someone elses' mouth. Ew. Wipe out the swings, please? I'll try to keep my kid's honey wheat pretzel rod off the playground equipment if you keep the animal cookies off the swings.
4. Pick up your trash. Okay, this applies to more than just the playground. I am always appalled by the amount of trash at the park. There are trash cans and recycling bins every few feet. Just pick one. Please, choose appropriately though. I noticed yesterday that the trashcan was filled to the brim with plastic bottles and soda cans while the recycle bin sat nearly empty. It's like people are trying to not care. Jerks.
5. Judge as you would be judged...or something like that. This one is a bit more complicated. I saw Green Glass Dad at the park today. He had Green Glass Mom with him, this time. I'd never seen her before, but she looked just as I had imagined in my mind: sort of hipster-esque with a side of hippy and probably in the single digits for body fat percentage. For whatever reason this guy had always rubbed me the wrong way. I don't know why. He's never been anything but pleasant to me at the park and at the library. I told myself while I was swinging the girls that it was because he has a judgey air about him. Yeah, that's it. He's all judgey and I don't like it. Look at him there with his reusable bag picnic. Yeah, I've got my plastic bag, what of it? Looking all smug with his metal water bottle and [probably] vegan lunch. Yeck. Then, it hit me: I'm the judgey one. Shit. I was standing there concerning myself with what this guy and his wife and child were doing and not soaking in every glorious moment of a perfectly sunny, breezy day at a park with two of my favorite people. I'm the asshole. I hate these moments. So I stopped myself in my own tracks and did an about-face, literally. I positioned myself on the other side of the swings so that I was facing the two most beautiful faces on earth with my back to the Green Glasses.
Who knew the park could reveal so much to me in such simple contexts? Not me.
On another note, we are moving at the end of the week, so each time I visit somewhere in Columbia, I contemplate whether it will be my last time there. I can't lie, I've teared up quite a few times. I'll miss this little town in the middle of Missouri, in the middle of the country. It's been my home for 8 years. I met my husband here, had my babies, and met some of the nicest, best people on the planet. So, I guess I should say thanks. Thanks, Columbia. You've sucked at times (eh-hem, 24 inches of snow?), but you've been a really nice place to live. As for the people, they know they're awesome and they know who they are.
Hey, so you know how to get your kid to stop watching TV? Turn on something they don't like. This works with husbands, too. It turns out Claire is not interested, even a bit, in HGTV. I see many House Hunters marathons in my future.