Getting Even

                  
Let's get back to the regular scheduled programming of me complaining about my family pissing me off.

It started the other night. My husband went to the gym late. When he got home at 10:30, I was in bed. This man walked into the bathroom, looked around and said to me. "Where do we keep the towels?"
What.in.the.actual.hell?
                       
I had a tone of desperation when I said, "Please tell me you do know where we keep the towels." He rolled his eyes at me. "I know where we keep the towels, I just was wondering if we had any." People in this house think it's my job to know where everything is.

The perfect example of that was the following morning. My youngest got up to get ready for school. She came in, woke me up and said, "Mom where did you put my tank top?"

"I didn't put it anywhere."
"Yes you did."
"Check on top of the dresser."
"I already did."
"Well then wear something different."

That led to on all out melt down. Screaming and accusing me of "losing all her stuff." Finally, I got out of bed. Stomped in her room and guess what? The damn tank top was on her dresser like I told her. I threw it at her.
                        
NOT how I wanted to start my morning. I went downstairs to make a cup of coffee so I could start my day. My sixth grader was skulking around. "It's Friday, you need to make your own lunch today," I reminded her.

She went to the freezer then turned to me and asked, "Did you put my lunchbox in the freezer."
"No."

She threw her hands in the air and started bitching. "I took it out of my book bag and left it on the table for you so you could put it in the freezer. What the heck, mom?!?!"

I looked at her like,

                      
"Don't blame me for your laziness. Instead of setting on the table you COULD have walked your ass to the freezer and put it in there. Not my job."

She huffed and puffed as she put her lunch together. I make her life SOOOOO hard. Bad Mom Award.

I left with my younger ungrateful child at 7 am to take her to school. Right after I dropped her off, my phone rang. It was my oldest ungrateful child.

"Mom, I left my glasses in your car. Can you drop them off in the front office."

I was wearing booty shorts, my hair was a hot mess and my breath was all coffee-stank. I was not getting out and dropping anything at any front office.

"No. But tell you what. Tell dad to wait in the parking lot across from the school and I'll drop them off to you."

There was a pause. "That's not going to work. Dad can just go back to the house after he drops me off and he can leave them in the front office."

Who does she think she is? Making her father waste 40 minutes of his day so she can hang out in the gym with her friend before school starts? NO. NOT HAPPENING.

"He's not doing that," I told her. She hung up on me.

I called my husband and told him to meet me in the parking lot in front of the school. He felt like it was a solid plan. I headed over the the school and pulled up next to his car. I unrolled the window and dangled her glasses from my fingers. She walked over and grabbed them. "I love you. Have a good day."

She gave me a dirty look, rolled her eyes and said, "Well, I don't like you."

                  
B doesn't know who she is messing with. I wasn't mad. I don't get mad. I get even.

I just so happened to be listening to Backstreet's Back in the car. That's how I roll at 7:30 am on a Friday. I turned it all the way up, rolled down my windows and drove REALLY slowly behind her until she got to a big group of kids waiting at the crosswalk.

Then, I hung my head out the window with my hot mess hair and all and started yelling to her. First and last name, "CB -MY DAUGHTER, I LOVE YOU! YOU ARE SO COOL AND AWESOME! HAVE A GREAT DAY! I LOVE YOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUU!"

Neighbor boy turned around and grinned. She stood there with her arms folded across her chest, face red and lips pursed. She was pissed. I loved every minute of it. I drove away with a strange sense and satisfaction and thought to myself, It's going to be a good day.