Disabled Parking

There's a new TV show called "What Would You Do?" that turns Candid Camera on its ear. The premise is to create an awkward/uncomfortable social situation (with actors, natch) and then film the innocent passersby as they respond (or don't). One blurb I saw when the show first came out was of a pair of friends having lunch in a restaurant and 'catching' another friend's boyfriend having lunch with and kissing another woman. Does she confront? Does she tell? Her solution was to text the boyfriend that she saw him cheating, which I thought was a masterful stroke. Dude, there are eyes everywhere.

I don't watch the show, but briefly saw another ad a few days ago whilst fumbling for the TiVo remote. The ad was a blurblet about one of the "bits": obnoxious woman parks her BMW in a handicapped spot and then takes on a passerby who chastizes her for it. The ad has stayed with me, and here's why: *Every day* as I pull into the parking area at The Toddler's preschool, there is a person retrieving a (her?) child who parks in the one clearly marked disabled parking spot. Every day I get to watch her walk/jog/bounce down the pathway and scoop up the child into a big hug, then ambulate her non-disabled self back to her minivan and go.

The first time I saw it, there were no available non-disabled spaces, so I thought well, okay, for the 5 minutes you're inside... but that quickly faded as I watched this woman, day after day, pull into this spot when every single other space was open. I even check out her van for a disabled placard or license plate in the hopes I'm missing something.

Now I'm not a crusader or anything, but this really irks me. Never mind the fact that she's not disabled (unless insensitivity has been classed a disability). I was recently an uncomfortable pregnant person and could, many times, have really used the shorter walking distance of a disabled spot. In fact, I think that pregnant people should get a temporary placard. The monumental - and rapid - changes to the body during pregnancy certainly incapacitated me a few times. But, I never park in disabled spots because I'm not an asshole I have functioning legs and can walk unaided.

So every day, I think about how I can confront the issue. There's Confused: Just go up and say "really? you're disabled?" Or In-Your-Face: "Don't park there, beyotch!" Or Instructive: "Now I don't know if you know this but that's a DISABLED spot, you can't park there." Or Passive-Aggressive: leave a note on her car/ stick a "THIS MEANS YOU" note to the bottom of the sign/call the school and complain.

In the show blurb, the passerby confronts the BMW driver. I wish I had the chutzpah to do that.

Apologies

"You'll understand when you have kids of your own...."

I'd like to take this opportunity to apologize profusely to -- well, a bunch of people.

To my mother: I am still very angry with you, don't get me wrong, but I now see how you thought you knew best what I needed even when I was 25. I cannot imagine the day when The Toddler is no longer in need of my constant supervision. Her current forays into independance ("I CAN DO IT MYSELF!") strike fear into my heart fill me with joy, until she shears off a hank of her hair with her big-girl scissors, just as I did when I was her age.

To my friend IG: I apologize for all the things I thought ("Why can't she fold that mountain of laundry?" and "taking away a bedtime book is not an appropriate consequence for refusing to put on one's shoes in a timely matter") when I visited your house after #2 came along. I'm typing this in very close proximity to my own clean and dry mountain of laundry that I fully intended to fold when I came downstairs. Unfortunately, surfing Gap dot com for clothes that my 4th trimester body could fit in was more interesting.

To my colleague LB: I know I walked too fast when you were newly pg and I wasn't. I frankly couldn't believe that you could be winded/unable to move at a normal pace. I'm so sorry! And, when you came back to work, I remember many "Mommy Brain" comments that I just dismissed as excuses. Welllllll, now I Get It.

To the woman on one of my many business flights I took while still DINK, whose child put the noxious in obnoxious. I'm sorry for the evil stares I sent your way. I now know that you were doing your best, and sometimes your best is ignoring the little demon spawn you find yourself related to lest you huck them a few rows away.

To those wielding strollers I refused to give way for before The Toddler was born, I now understand why you needed right-of-way: encouraging a laden stroller to bob and weave in pedestrian traffic is impossible.

I'm sure I have more overdue apologies. I'll apologize for that and say that when my Mommy Brain melts away and my Real Brain fires up again I'll remember what I have to apologize for and give it another go....

Fire

I'm driving in my car,
I turn up the radio.

The baby is crying
The toddler says "NO!"
She says she doesn't like it
and girl
the situation is dire

'Cause when I drive -- oo oo, crier!

She had a hold on me right from the start
She has a grip so tight I can't tear it apart
Her pixie smile makes me play the fool

Her eyes they dance but her mouth, it drools.

Laurie Berkner and The Wiggles
Dora and Diego

Baby
you can bet we listen all the time
Their words are happy
but their words they lie

'Cause when I drive -- oo oo, Crier!

Praise

I'm driving back home from The Toddler's gymnastics class with both kids. The Toddler is saying "Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, can I watch my DVD at hoooooooome?"

#2 is crying because when we walked into gymnastics to drop The Toddler off, the maelstrom of children running around (never mind the "No Running in the Lobby" signs) and intermittently screaming (why, oh WHY do kids feel the need to do this? Oh wait, I feel the need to do that sometimes) has woken her out of her post-milk sleep, and she's been unable to fall back asleep.

I'm trying, fitfully, to listen to NPR and Tom Ashbrook discussing when/if HRC should back out of the race. All the time contemplating the mind-crushing tedium (see crayon conversation below) that is my life.

I pull up to a red light and stop. And hear from the back seat:

"Good Stopping, Mommy!"

I'd like to say that it made it all better -- it didn't -- but it did make me smile and feel good. Nothing like a little praise, genuinely given, to knock you out of your downward spiral. That and a mocha latte, a sunny day, and a good night's sleep.

**********

"Mommy? I need some crayons."

"You have lots of crayons in your bucket."

"But I need them to draw!"

"C. You have a bucket FULL of crayons. Go get them."

"Please? I need some crayons to draw."

"Listen. To. Me. Get your plastic bucket of crayons. You have plenty in there to draw with."

feet padding over to playroom. bucket of crayons rattling. feet padding back to me.

Smiling, hopeful face turned up to me: "Open this please?"

bucket opened, feet padding back to playroom. Ahh. peace.


10 minutes later, I realize I need to go make sure she's drawing on paper, something I can no longer count on after the birth of #2 and the Sharpie Incident of 2008.