That Girl

I am that girl that you saw in Walmart today. The one with the screaming, mimi throwing, toddler. That was me, trying in vain, to convince him to shut up long enough to grab some rice, applesauce and folder tabs, with only a quick jaunt over to fabrics. I, so desperately wanted to go down the aisle with the duct tape. The temptation was too much for me to handle. My threat's met deaf (most likely a side effect of the blood curdling screams) ears. But how would you know any of this? You just lurked in the shadows, watching. Waiting.

I am that girl you saw standing on her head, butt crack showin', trying to force a billion pound bag of Jasmine Rice under the shopping cart. You gape in wonder at my behind. (yes it really does make African girls jealous, and NO I can't find pants that fit the dang thing) I am the one who, standing up red faced and adjusting all of her clothes, gave her 12 and 9 year old children the look of death for laughing. 'Just wait till your FATHER gets home'...........

I am that girl at the check out with the danger mite child who is determined to climb out of the shopping cart. You look to see if I notice the escapee. You draw in a sharp breath as I deftly snatch the air born toddler from the stratosphere and plop him back into the seat of the cart, barely saving his life. He is ungrateful. He screams like a banshee. You wonder if the clerk can move any faster.

I am that girl you saw in the feed store wearing pink cords, a sparkly shirt and ballerina flats. You gave me THE look. I was trying my darnedest to load the chick starter, oyster shell, dog food, rabbit food, chicken scratch and layer crumble into the back of my Suburban. I was trying not to get too schmutzy. You were repulsed by all of the Juice Boxes, Pull-Ups, Toys, McDonald's paraphernalia, extra Clothes and Shoes, I was trying to force out of my way in order to shove all the feed into the back of my truck. You wondered when I would go back to the city from whence I came.

I am that girl you noticed in the Goodwill. The one with a gazillion kids. The one whose kids were either pickin-N-flickin' boogers or peeling the price tags off all the glassware. Yes, it was I, who meandered over to the book nook, the one next to all of the noisy toys, just to annoy you. I told my kids to have at'ter. 'No fighting now, there is plenty of annoying junk for all of you.' You had the nerve to glare.

I am that girl.

The pesky shopper. The ridiculous farm chick wanna be. The goodwill stealer. THAT mom with the screamin' kid.