gutless

I get so irritated with my gutless self sometimes. While I naturally gravitate toward people that are kind & not all in-your-face about how they disagree with you (I really hate conflict), sometimes in-your-face is called for....if for nothing else, to avoid hangover guilt the next morning when you think back on your pathetic, zipped-lip self.

We had Sassy's birthday party yesterday, a joint party with her cousin Lillie who was turning one. All of Jeff's family attended, and some of my mother-in-law's neighbors, too. His aunt L got to talking with his mom's neighbor M (who has one child, one year old) after I commented on a little girl from another group's party up the hill. She was sitting on the ground for a good five minutes crying, wailing actually, and I said, "I wonder what she's crying so much about."

I suppose I should have been more distinct. I was wondering who her parents were and why they weren't trying to figure out what was wrong. I was wondering why they were leaving her to cry by herself for 5 minutes. She was 3 or 4 years old maybe.

This started a nice little ditty of a conversation between L and M.

M: I'll tell you what I would do. I'd tell her to quit crying or I'd give her something to cry about.

L: You know, I was in Target the other day and [insert local news anchor’s name] was in there with her little girl. She had her in the cart and the little girl was throwing a huge fit, screaming and crying, and she was talking to her! Trying to reason with her! Finally, she let her out and the little girl threw herself on the floor and threw a huge tantrum – kicked her legs, flung her arms around. Well, everybody was looking. Later, I heard they were out on the bench in the front of the store and she told someone, “It was way past her naptime.” I’ll tell you what – it was way past her spanking time!

M (nodding): This business about not being able to spank your kids when you want is the biggest bunch of bull. My friend’s son came home the other day from school and told his mom, “Guess what I learned in school today. I learned you can’t touch me or I can call 241-KIDS. “ Now he’s a good kid. He was just telling his mom what he learned, not threatening or anything. But she put him in his place. She said, “Well, I might go to jail but I’ll get out of jail faster than you’ll get out of the hospital!”

Much laughter ensued between L & M, and even through my tight lips, I couldn’t hold back my, “Ooh, that’s horrible!”

I guess they realized at that point they didn’t have much of a sympathetic audience anymore, so L gave one last little anecdote while M looked at me suspiciously.

L: I saw [same news anchor] in Kohl’s one day and she had both kids with her. They were both screaming and crying that day. It disturbed everyone in the place! No one could shop.

In my head, I was saying all sorts of things. Things like:

“You know, it is not a basic human right to go out in the world and not be annoyed by other people.”

“Your ‘good Christian judgment’ never helped anybody understand Jesus’ love.” (She’s quite religious.)

“Boy, if only Jesus had been there, he would have picked those kids up and blistered their butts!”

“Children have as many rights as you do to express their frustration without being assaulted, even if they don’t do it in as mature a way as you do.”

And finally....

“This is a horrible conversation! I’m outta here!”

Instead, I waited for an opportunity to politely excuse myself without being rude. Because I don’t want to cause a conflict. Because I don’t like confrontation.

Because I was gutless, and I’ve got the hangover guilt to prove it.