Reckless Behavior

"Don't even think about it, jerk!"…"What in the world was that move for?"…"Expletive, Expletive…and big.giant. EXPLETIVE!!!"

Maybe, I'm talking to a telemarketer? Nope. Customer service? Good guess, but no. You'll be relieved to know my daughter is not the target of my venom either.

I'm not talking to anyone, per se. I'm yelling at cars whizzing around me so recklessly that you'd think we were in a race of some sort.

This persona of mine, which resembles an obnoxious loudmouth, rears its ugly head in New York City traffic. I call it my achilles heel on wheels.

If anything could justify my temporary insanity, it would be operating a motor vehicle in this city. It's an unwritten rule that you drive like a maniac, or risk getting run off the road. But the operative word is drive. It doesn't mean I need to act like a maniac also.

In fact, now that I have fragile cargo riding behind me, I should be doing neither.

Sometimes, I need reminding…"Mama was mad," Claire says as I lift her out of her carseat at the end of the trip. She sounds so matter of fact when she says it. She almost sounds like she feels compassion for me. I pick her up and melt. Melt at how sweet she is, and how awful I feel for subjecting her to my craziness. She was so quiet in the back, while I was having my temper tantrum behind the wheel. I wonder if I scared her, or if she's imprinting my antics on her brain as the way to behave while driving (or anywhere else for that matter).

Both are unacceptable to me, and I feel about as tall as she is in this moment.

If there were ever a reason to stop, Claire would be it.

My bad habit will be hard to kick though. I've been driving in NYC for over 20 years now, and, unfortunately, you do need a bit of adrenalin pumping and/or large cojones to match wits with cabbies, delivery trucks, and the many other aces who think they are Mario Andretti.

I can do it though! I might not win the race, but I'll certainly get the prize.


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Photo Source: Cyclops-Unicorn, Deviant Art

"F" is for Friend

A guy I know keeps a glass jar on the top of his refrigerator marked “Potty Mouth”. Whenever he curses, he puts a dollar in it for charity. I need one too, or at least a precocious eight-year-old thinks I do:

“You just said a bad word,” George’s little cousin says to me (with the intent of an interrogator).

“Shit,” I think, replaying the dinner conversation in my head....“What’d I say?” I ask with trepidation.

“You said ‘stupid’,” Mary Louise says.

“Phew, ‘not as bad as I thought’,” I think.

“Well,” I didactically explain. “I didn’t call a person stupid; what I did was call something they did stupid and that really isn’t that bad.” 

(I remember learning that somewhere as a youngster, right? Back me up here, folks!)

Mary Louise listens patiently. But she isn’t buying my backpedaling. She gives me the blank stare of an eight-year-old. The look says “my world is and will continue to be black and white until I’m well beyond a teenager, so don’t waste your breath”.

I feel about two feet tall. And speaking of two feet tall, Claire is now in the full-blown mimicking stage. 

“Un, do, tree, foo”, she says, sounding like Buckwheat (only way cuter), and having no clue that she’s actually counting….Hence the thought of a jar that penalizes you. 

Mary Louise made me realize how much kids are actually listening -- even when you think they’re not. So instead of thinking about Claire using the potty, I'm worrying about my potty mouth. Of course, I want to be a good role model, which means I'm minding my P’s and Q’s. 

And F’s! That’s my favorite one…the F word. It’s versatile -- can be used in a number of ways, as different parts of speech. I often use it as a modifier, replacing words like ‘very’. 

So F and I are breaking up. He’s a bad influence. It’s going to be hard for me. If you’ve read my bio, you know I am a mom of a “certain age”. The F-word has been a companion for a f-ing…oh wait, I mean, very long time. 

The good news is that some charity will be the benefactor of my bad habit. Let me know your favorite one. I just might consider writing a check ahead of time…

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