I've officially promoted myself

This is a picture of an elephant's ass. There's lots of symbolism here: memory, and ass are the two I can think of now. That, and I took the picture when I volunteered at the kids' zoo field trip. Because I'm up at the school allllll the time.

I've had a few altercations incidents with mothers from the elementary school where my kids attend. The first was just weird, and I learned early on not to get suckered into someone else's drama. I've got plenty of my own. The second was really crazy but, was taken care of, I think.I'm good with it, atleast. This last one though, I'm going to have nightmares about for a long time.

I got a call from a lady who has a kid in the same grade as my sweet numchuks at the school they all attend. The lady asked if we could talk and keep it just between us. So, I'm going to respect that request and keep the details of the actual issue we disccused. However, I might have blabbed to Ricardo and JulzHOLLA! for therapy purposes. They get spousal immunity.

As every year winds down, the talk of who your kids teacher next year will be starts to brew. This fine lady wanted to discuss teachers and what I thought. And without getting into details about what I THINK her questions and doubt may have been, let's just say, on the actual points, our views and experiences differed greatly. I must be growing up because I was totally cool with that. I must have said, "To each his own" and "Sounds like kids respond differently to different teaching styles" atleast 20 times each.

While I was eating cake and chatting on a Friday night, she was apparently drinking a glass, or FIVE, of wine. I think it was wine because somewhere in the conversation, I listened for ice clanking as she raised it to sip. No ice clank. Must have been wine. I was on the phone with her for an hour. It started out friendly. It ended badly, and very slurred.

I don't know what mixed signals I must send to people. Some think I'm mean and rude, others think I'm approachable. I think I'll work on oozing more mean and rude. Because approachable would suggest she'd called for my opinion. As the conversation progressed, view points differed, slurring increased, and someone - uh, not me - became a bit more irate. I was cool, tried to resolve the situation. But she was hearing nothing of it. I couldn't really figure out what the goal of the conversation was. There was no end in sight. The speech more slurred.

Perhaps I should have kept up with her glasses of wine - me for more cake. I don't know. But a few things bothered me.
Her kids were sitting next to her, listening and even contributing to every word. I had gone outside to discuss the situation so that my kids don't get involved in whatever this was. If you want a kid to listen to you, grab the phone, dial, and whisper into it. They'll hang on every word.

So when lady was slurring, "WELL MAYBE LUCY IS SMARTER THAN BOBBY." I'd had enough. Bobby heard her say that. And upon the mere suggestion that I'd insuated that, I was livid. So, I said as loud as I could so that ol Bobby would hear me through the reciever in hopes the sound waves would reverberate off the more-empty-than-not wine glass, "I DO NOT THINK LUCY IS SMARTER THAN BOBBY!" I tried to get sound bytes in like that because she was doing the talking louder and louder over my very awesome and realistic points.

About 45 minutes into the conversation it started to seem very familar to me. What was it? Oh yes, years and years of oppressed childhood memories. Mommy, is that you? Son of a Bitch. Really? I wanted to say, "Look lady, I've done my time on this one. I've gone to extreme efforts to not end up on your side of this phone call." I wanted to say all that. But I knew better. This woman was not going to remember this call. It was THAT bad folks. Remember the last time you had a conversation with someone so drunk you were begging them to give them your keys so they couldn't drive? And all your pal could do was counter argue that the bartender jipped him on the last margarita with no salt. Remember that?

So, I'm trying to back out of this conversation as fast as I can, "Oh, okay, I see your point..." Which I sooooo didn't. And then she just continued to talk over me. Why am I still on the phone? She's the only one talking. She does not want my input like she'd initially asked for on glass of wine number 2. She's on number 7 now. She's talking back meaner to the kids too. Shit. In a mere hour, she's done a complete flip from fairly cordial to insanely argumentative. I could just hang up. I could come up with a great excuse. I'm clever like that. And then she goes on and on about why she called me. Because she's a WORKING mom, and I'm up at the school ALL THE TIME and I know ALL the teachers. Oh. No. She. Did. Not.

Yep. She did.

I correct her with my super funniness, "Look, I go up up on Thursdays for a half hour to stuff folders. I request I don't have to interact with the kids. I am not up there all the time." Because there really are some moms who are up there all the time. Like, waiting for their kid in the parking lot - 3 hours before school gets out. It's creepy. And although I'm sure they are lovely women, I don't want that reputation. I'm not that mom.

Wine lady does the "Oh I didn't mean to insult you, I'm gonna cover now, and then inevitably continue to insult you further" thing. I'm not allowing the false judgments to bother me, because a) she's wrong and 2) she's DRRRRRRUNK. When she says again,
"It's just that you're up there all the time, and I thought you'd have better input than this."

Nice.

I sit there and let the awkward silence sober her up a little bit.

And then she says again, "I work 8-5 and I cannot be up there all the time." I can see her head cocking back and forth as she says this. And then, as she'd done a couple of other times, she literally forgot who she was talking to. She can't remember, and she's asked the same question a couple of times, made repetitive statements. But this time she's stumped. And she says,
"Do you work? I mean, I know being a mom is a job and all..." Reeeeeallllll condescending like.

And based on an argument we'd just had 5 minutes prior about if a teacher had her credentials and graduated when teaching our kids, for once in my life, I upped my title to sound like I worked really hard. (I'm assuming she wouldn't have known what Adjunct Faculty would mean anyways.) Lame, I know, but effective, "Yes, I work! I'm a college PROFESSOR!" Just like that.

She backtracks with more friendly reminders that I'm up at the school all the time. And I give up. Check. Out.

I'm still graciously polite at this point while willing her an incredible wine hangover headache with my super powers of ESP through the phone. She rambles some more about the same stuff. It's a vicious cycle of not only the same topic, but the same phrases and exact same sentences. I eventually put on my best surprised voice and say, "Oh wow, it's been great talking to you, but I need to get the kids ready for bed!"

Long pause. Well, not too long, but in perspective of this conversation, it's a pause, therefore concluding, it was long. And then, she says, simply, "Fine. Bye." And hung up.

Years of suppressed childhood memories have just been resurfaced. Thank you, lady.

That's how I roll.
Song of the day - Party (Up in Here) - DMX - Gone In 60 Seconds Soundtrack