Part 2.

So, bags in hand, we walked back through Target.

Josephine had quieted down and was almost, if not, asleep at this point.
Chamblee and Jacob held each of my hands, and, like tiny little soldiers, marched beside me as I went looking for battle.

Not really. 

As I was looking down every aisle, I was thinking, praying, chanting, "Be kind. Be kind. Be kind."
I was terrified of what might come out when I found him. Terrified.

I swept through the cleaning aisles, the beauty aisles, the grocery aisles, then through the toy aisles.
He had to be here. Where is he? 
Then I saw him round the corner.
The cat aisle. Of course he was.
He saw us coming.

"Excuse me?" I said.
Nothing.
So, I got up realll close.
"Excuse me sir?" a little louder.

He never responded, he just stopped and stared.

So I said the only thing I really wanted to say and expected to walk away immediately after.
"What you said to me was hurtful. And rude. And you should be ashamed of yourself."

Then he started.
"I'm sorry. But I just paid $45 for lunch and I had to listen to children in the background the whole time."

I'm sorry, what? 

He told me that if I couldn't control my children, then I should stay at home.
I told him if he didn't want to see or hear children, then he should stay at home.
And the like. 

He should've just stopped at his first two words, because after that I blacked out again. Sort of. It just. made. it worse. I'll spare you the word by word, play by play; not because I don't remember (I will never forget) but because it's pointless. It's embarrassing. It was a spectacle.

A spectacle that ended in six Target employees, four buggys and a few bystanders circled around us. And two wide eyed children right in the middle. (If you must have the play by play, you can probably find me on YouTube under "Mom goes rogue in Target.")  There was no yelling. There were no harsh words. Just my raw, emotional, mama bear response to a jerk in a cat aisle. I did my very best to stay calm. My very, very best. But my best wasn't good enough. I ended up walking away with three moms following behind. One was still jaw dropped, one called him an expletive, and one was clapping. clapping. They were parading me out. I didn't want a parade. I wanted to melt into the floor and straight down a drain. Or straight up karate chop this guy. in the throat. Or wake Josephine up and let her yell all crazy while I followed him around the store.

I wanted to do all of it and I did none of it. I grabbed those sweet little hands up and kissed 'em.
Turned on my heels and headed home.


Until Next Time,
The Guff

Part 1.

I broke the coffee press, and I had to get a new one.

That is really what it all boiled down to. We are a coffee drinkin' set of parents and without it I am not sure that I could call myself a human before noon. It hasn't always been that way, but it is that way now, and I suppose there are far worse things to be addicted to and claim to need. desperately. 

The kids were up for it so I packed the van with my lovies and headed about 500 yards down the road. Target. 

I got in, got the press and headed for the door. Superman  Jake is cruising on the bottom of the buggy, hands out. Cool. Quiet. Chamblee is walking next to me, holding my hand, giving me her best argument for why she neeeeeds that Frozen headband. She could wear it to school, show all of her friends, she really loves Frozen, you know. She can use her allowance. She needs it. And sweet baby Josephine is strapped to my chest cooing and babbling and giving the occasional screech. She's getting 4 molars at once. I am sympathetic and maybe a little desensitized to the noise level... but honestly. 

Nothing. Crazy. 

Nothing. 

I am almost to the cashiers. I have almost made it out of the store with no comments, no tantrums, nothing eventful. Just got the press and headed home. 

Then, there it is. 

And it's bad. 

I hear -behind my back, of course- someone say it. 

"Why don't you go have some more kids or something?"

My first thought was to say, "I think I will!" And smile. And walk away. 

I think you guys know me better than that. 

So, instead, I went with my second thought. 

I whipped around. 

I asked a tart, "Excuse me?" 

Nothing. 

So I   s l o w l y   rolled the cart back a little bit. 

Tried to make eye contact with the man. 

"Excuse me? Were you talking to me?"

I got an eye roll, a huff, and he kept on keeping on down aisle 2. 

Coward.

"You know, I didn't think you would want to say that to my face." 

I whipped back around. 

And then, I blacked out. 

I can't think of a time when I have ever been so. angry. 

I really can't. Not even once. 

I made it to the cashier, I apparently paid. 

We headed for the van. 

I am shaking. I am so mad. 

As the automatic doors opened, my legs quit working. 

I wasn't satisfied. 

What he said was rude. Uncalled for. 

I didn't stand up for myself in front of my children.

He's gotta know that he can't talk to people me that way and expect no consequence. 

But was it my place? to hold him accountable?

Yes. Yes it was. It was me he was talking about, after all. 

So, I turned around. 

"Where are we going, mom?" 

"Are you returning my Frozen headband?" 

What Frozen headband? Ugh. Must've said yes during the blackout. 

"Did you forget something?" 

"Where are we GOING?" 

So I answered them. 

"We are going back into the store to find the rude man. 

I need to tell him something." 

To Be Continued...

Until Next Time, 

The Guff