OK….first and foremost, for those of you who know me…I really try hard NOT to complain. (OK, in all honesty for those of you who TRULY know me…play along and pretend to be surprised.) For those of you who think you know me…let’s carry on. I really do LOVE the idea of a Complaint Free World. I read the book; got the tee shirt. OK, not the tee shirt…the little purple bracelet that goes along with it. If you are not familiar with the concept…You are suppose to go 21 days without uttering a complaint. On average it takes most people 100 plus days before they can do it. In the meantime…you wear your bracelet and every time you catch yourself mouthing or even thinking a complaint (which honestly…what ever happened to the honor system here) you are suppose to move the bracelet from one wrist to the other until you get to a point where you are no longer MOVING your bracelet. I moved that damn bracelet so much within the first few days (okay hours) I looked like the Karate kid doing the wax on, wax off moves. Bracelet on….bracelet off….Grasshopper NOT happy!
OK, so I digress…it’s my story…reference the title and let’s get over it together shall we?
SOOOO….where was I? Oh yes…my story. SO I bank where I shop. Sounds like a great concept on the commercials and lets face it, it would make a whole lot of sense according to them. “Since you are shopping here anyway, why not make it easy on yourself and do your banking too?” BUT…what about the days when all you need to do is BANK? Gas prices being what they are…I try my best to consolidate my trips and so if I have to go to the bank…I might as well find a reason to shop. SO today despite my highly hormonal condition…I headed to the bank/store. I whipped into an up close parking spot only to find that it was marked for “Expectant Mothers”. REALLY???? OK, where were these things when I was a waddling prego all 3 times? As one of my favorite comedians says….the expectant mother parking should be ALL the way at the back of the parking lot cuz in a couple of years their arses are going to be chasing after a defiant two year old and they’ll need the stamina AND the exercise. I reluctantly backed out of my prized spot, but truthfully as an egg carrying female, who’s to say I am NO LONGER qualified as an Expectant Mother???
As a matter of fact…the longer I stewed ( and I had plenty of opportunity to stew while taking my mile long walk from where I HAD to park to the entrance of the store) the more I realized I had every right to that parking space. What mother isn’t EXPECTANT? As a mother we EXPECT our children to clean their rooms. We EXPECT them to do well in school. We EXPECT that they will grow up to be outstanding, productive members of our society. We EXPECT that someday they will MOVE OUT and allow us the thrill of an empty nest and then we will EXPECT them (Insert Mother Guilt Here) to call us every Sunday if that’s not asking to much! Need I go on??? I’m an EXPECTANT mother damn it and thus entitled to the coveted parking spot!!!
Now if you will pardon me I need to go move my bracelet AND pour myself a glass of wine from the bottle I had to purchase due to the rising cost of gas and the need to consolidate my banking and shopping needs. I EXPECT to feel less cranky in a glass or two.