Last Friday was the annual Halloween dance at my kids' school. My kids had a fantabulous time and I'm sure the other students did as well. Me, on the other hand? I was tempted to bring home some of the leftover fruit punch and make a quick swing by the liquor store. All because of mother bitches.
Those who signed up to help before, during, or after the dance. Very few of them actually showed up. Showed up to help, that is. Some were seen during the dance chatting away to friends on the dance floor. But once those light came on at the end, they were gone.
The moms you would think have never seen their kid dressed in a costume. I understand wanting to take a picture of your toddler during the costume contest. Who doesn't love chubby cheeked little girls dressed up as a bumble bee. Or a boy, barely old enough to walk, donning a Spider Man costume, complete with fake muscles. Moms of older children, as in 2nd grade and up, they really needed to stop.
I was keeping an eye on a friend's sleeping son in his stroller. With how many moms that bumped into him while trying to move around for the perfect shot, I don't know how he didn't wake.
Those who are too good (or lazy) to clean up their messes. Our drink for the night was fruit punch. Fruit punch is red. Red stains. Quite a few spills were left for someone else to clean up. The janitor is the only one allowed to mop the floors. I don't even want to know what words were popping out of her mouth when she saw all those red spots under the tables.
Just one this time. This would be the mom of Kindergarten student, S. S is friends with my son. S is not a friend I like. I don't like the words he uses nor do I like how he treats people. What started as innocent poking and bumping turned into something more.
My boy was having fun playing with S while lined against the wall for the costume contest. The fun stopped when S refused to give my son's hat back. I tried to stay out of it because my boy needs to defend himself. But when that wasn't working, I had to step in and tell S to give my boy his hat back.
Where was S's mom? I have no clue. S is always getting into things. His mom can rarely be found. I don't want to tell my kids who to be friends with, but it's getting close to that point with S.
I feel like I am being mean in my venting, but I really don't understand. As adults, why haven't some people grown up enough to realize they aren't the only ones in the world? And why can't people take more responsibility when it comes to their kids?