Today I Was A Horrible Person

Most days I consider myself a good person. One who, given a choice, will do the right thing.  Today was not one of those days.

My daughter and I were cruising through Costco, enjoying our ridiculously large frozen yogurts, heading towards a mom with two young kids seated side by side in the shopping cart. Right when we roll up next to them and I mean right at that EXACT moment, the little boy in the cart leans over and pukes. In our direction. Within spraying distance of us and our yogurt.

Now before I continue with the story…let’s talk about me and puke. I was very, very sick throughout all three of my pregnancies with a condition called Hyperemesis Gravidarum. I threw up on a daily basis, many, many times a day, for months on end, during three separate times in my life.  I was hospitalized, IV’s, the works. And I think I have a little PTSD when it comes to vomiting. Because I cannot handle being around it. At all.

When my own sweet children have the stomach flu, I scream for my husband and then hide far enough away that I cannot hear that revolting sound coming from the bathroom. On the rare occasions that this happens and I am alone with the kids, I shove them into the bathroom and stand in the hall behind the closed door cheering them on guiltily, “It’s ok!  You’re doing great!  You can totally do this by yourself!”

As a result my children are very independent pukers. Not a bad thing, really. But I digress – back to the story at Costco.  So….I freeze in place. My stomach lurches and I start to feel sick but I realize that I have a bunch of napkins in my purse and that this mom would probably really appreciate some napkins right about now. And I really do consider holding my breath, not looking at the vomit covered children, cart and ground and handing her the napkins.

Until the kid leans over the cart again and just absolutely unleashes perhaps the contents of every Costco sample table, over and over again, as only a child in public can do.  And suddenly I am not frozen.  I am running.  Like my life depends on it.   Away from the poor lady and the poor puking kid and the poor other kid that’s sitting next to the puking kid.  As fast as I can push my daughter and her chocolate yogurt and all the other crap in our cart, I run.  And I don’t look back.  And I know it’s really horrible that I didn’t help a fellow mom when I had the chance.  I had napkins.  I was right there.

Lady…if your kid had been choking, I swear I would’ve jumped in and performed the Heimlich.  If he had fallen out of the cart and cracked his head open, I would’ve ripped off my shirt and held it to his bleeding wound and I wouldn’t have batted an eye.  But this…this was just too much for me and I am truly sorry.

And now I am sitting here waiting for karma to bite me in the ass and send the stomach flu storming through my house. Stay tuned.




The other day I built this Lego set…every single piece, all by myself.  As in, I would not allow the children to help. 

If you think that sounds a bit odd, let me try to explain.  As the mother of an 11 year old boy, I am no stranger to Legos.  I have purchased countless sets, admired my son’s creations, organized them into bins, and my feet have been impaled by them numerous times.   Which hurts way more than anyone would imagine is possible. 

But all these Legos we have – Star Wars, Harry Potter, Minecraft – they’re all, like, BOY Legos.  And my son seemed to have this innate ability to correctly snap those bricks together so there was never any need for me to actually help assemble one of these things. 

Well, my 5 year old daughter recently received a Lego set of her own – the Lego Friends Adventure Camper, clearly marketed toward girls. And unlike her brother, for whatever reason, she had no idea how to begin putting it together.  So she asked me to help. 

Dumping out the pieces, I surveyed the scene on the kitchen table – pink and purple bricks, miniature food, hidden storage compartments in the camper, little bicycles with baskets – and suddenly I was a kid on Christmas morning again. 

I became so engrossed in building the set perfectly I kept shooing away my poor daughter who just wanted to play with her toy.  But she kept sticking pieces together all willy-nilly and screwing up my masterpiece. 

My husband walked in just as I snapped, “Stop touching those pieces, I need them!  Why don’t you go color?”  And he was like, “What’s going on here?  Why can’t she touch her Legos?  What is wrong with you?” 

And then the other kids start chiming in, “Mom’s gone crazy…she won’t let anybody near the Legos, it’s super weird.” 

So fine, I’m a horrible mother for commandeering the Lego set but honestly, I don’t ask for much…is it so wrong to want to build the damn Adventure Camper in peace??

It’s not like they don’t have a billion other toys to play with. 

Now, of course I realize this “girl” Lego set is the ultimate gender stereotyping cliché.  And upon further research I found out that a lot of people are all up in arms about these “controversial” Lego sets being specifically marketed to girls…there have been petitions, rants of gender equality, sexism, etc. 

But the bottom line is that for years Lego has been trying to get girls on board with building and they have failed…until they dyed the bricks pink

And when did this, their profits went up 35%.  Which means little girls are building where they might not have been before.  So how is that a bad thing?  All I have to say on the matter is “Lego…what the hell took you so long?” 

And, as my husband so wittily put it, “Leggo my Lego!”