I can't believe I forgot to write about this, because as it was happening, I was thinking, the title of this post will be "Back Off My Bouncy House, Bitch". But I must have forgotten about it, because when I saw this woman running yesterday (and really, who runs anymore? It's so uncool) I thought "Oh there's Miss Bouncy Bitch, I forgot to write about her."  See, it doesn't pay to run.
So we had a Memorial Day cookout this year.  It was a family cookout which meant multiple kids, so we decided to rent a bouncy house.  We didn't rent it because we are such wonderful parents who get great joy from making our kids squeal with delight ..... it was more like my sis-in-law bestie and I decided a bouncy house would make a great baby sitter - a nice, soft cage enclosure to safely contain our children while we try to relax a little bit. (And OK, yes, the kids' faces are pretty adorable when they see it in their own yard.)

And yes, it's a good place to keep Chris safe too.

So Chris went to pick it up the morning of the cookout.  He started to set it up in the yard, while I stuck flags in the ground, trying to make the yard look Memorial Day-ish.  As the bouncy house began to inflate, the boys jumped around, waiting im-patiently for the chance to dive in and start bouncing.
As I am planting flags, I see her.  Miss Bouncy Bitch, as I now call her.  I've seen her before, she's always been nice enough.  When we first moved into our house, we were outside and the boys were riding their tricycles.  She stopped her run, and came over to chat.  Huh, I thought.  This is a friendly neighborhood, she's about my age, maybe she'll be a new neighbor friend.  So we chatted a little bit, and then she asked if she could have my boys' tricycles.  Insert record screeching.....
"Yah, they're pretty big, they'll be in big boy bikes soon, right?" she asked.
Yah, my boys were 2.5 at the time.
So I remained my charming and friendly self (stop laughing), saying well, sure, maybe when the boys outgrow them her boys could use them.  Check back with me. (In like a year or two, pushy bitch.)
Over the next year or 2, I've said hello as she jogs by me (show-off), sometimes with a jogging stroller, sometimes by herself, and that's been the extent of our "relationship".
Until Memorial Day weekend 2012.
I'm planting my flags, when I notice that she's standing on the street, at the edge of our yard.  OK, what kind of freak fest is about to happen here?  I pretend I don't see her as I make my way over to Chris, making sure the large bouncy house remains between me and Bouncy Bitch, so as to avoid conversation.  In my head, I was a navy seal ... crawling and ducking around, out of her sight.   In reality, she probably saw me and wondered why the sweaty lady with the wild hair couldn't stand up straight.  But whatever.  I'm going with the whole stealth, navy seal story.

It's hard to tell, but that's me in the front, trying to make my way over to Chris.

I get over to Chris, and ask if he saw her staring at us, and he shrugs and says, "Yah, I told her her kid could go in it once it's inflated."
Great.  My husband is a nice guy.  Fantastic.
Hasn't he met me? Doesn't he know I'm trying to set the scene for the perfect Memorial Day cookout?
Isn't he aware that I need to finish putting out my flags (enough to make a statement, but not too many that it's cheesy) set up my tables and chairs (close enough so people can talk, but not too close that you can smell each other since it's going to be 95 degrees out) and shower and get ready (so I look casually cool, even though I'm going to continue to be a sweaty mess all day)?  I don't have time to be friendly.
The bouncy house inflates and my boys jump inside and start going wild.  She walks her kid (who I think was about 2) over and we exchange hellos and some small talk.  Then in a baby voice asks him if he wants to go in. He says no.
I get that.  My kiddos didn't really like bouncy houses til last year.  Plus, this kid doesn't know us, and I'm sure that even at 2, he knows his Mother is prone to sticking her foot in her mouth, so he probably wasn't all that eager for her to make herself at home.
She asked him about 18 more times if he wanted to go in.  He'd scream, "NO!".  She tried putting him through the little hole to go in.  He'd scream, "NO!".  Then she started telling me that he was a preemie so he's overly cautious.
Really?
He knows that he was a preemie and remembers the anxiety he felt as a newborn, knowing he arrived early?  So now he's really careful about getting himself into dangerous bouncy house situations?  What an evolved 2 year old.  You don't think that maybe he's just shy?  Or 2?  Both are perfectly normal and acceptable.  No need to make excuses for him already.
Whatever.  So we started exchanging war stories of Preemie life.  And she begins trying to one up me.  Once I started to see where she was going, it was SO on.  I was completely committed to winning.  Yes, of course it was a contest *.  C'mon, are you surprised?
Now, the bouncy house we had, happened to have a little basketball hoop inside.  My boys were throwing their Crocs up, trying to get them through the hoop.  As I am telling Bouncy Bitch about my boys' awesome Pulmonologist (KA-BLAM, her son doesn't see an awesome Pulmonologist like we do!), her son starts grunting and squealing, like some sort of pig-type animal.  She stops talking (relieved I'm sure, because she knew she was losing) and looks to see what he was grunting about.  She looks at my kids playing Croc basketball in the bouncy house and says,
"Ohhh, yah, they're throwing their shoes aren't they?  Yes, they are naughty."
Wait, what?
Did you just call my kids naughty?
While they are playing nicely in their OWN yard?
In a bouncy house that I paid for?
That my wicked nice husband told your stranger-ass, you could use for your weird grunting son, who has preemie anxiety?
Really?
How about you run yourself over to Toys R Us, and get your squealing kids some tricycles of their own and get out of my yard?
Right as she said it, I swung my head around to look at Chris, like, "What did this crazy bitch just say about my kids?"  He just laughed, knowing full well, that I would:
a) talk about it all day, telling everyone all about it b) blog about it and c) blow it all out of proportion.
(I didn't disappoint.)
I told the boys to come say "bye" to whatever-the-hell-his-name-was, which they did.  Then I said, "Well, have a great Memorial Day Weekend" as I walked away with my perfect number of flags, and my well behaved boys.
The horror.
The nerve.
And she's a runner too, how obnoxious *?
* Two things, before you start yelling at me...
1.  For those of you who have been forced to read reading for a while, you know that I really wanted to become a runner, but hurt myself on the 3rd day and have been milking that injury for over a year now was a runner at one time.  If you're a new friend, read THIS to see my hate-hate love-hate relationship with running.  I really have nothing against runners ... I'm just jealous.
and
2.  I'll admit my recollection of our Preemie war, is a bit exaggerated.  I do that sometimes.  Rarely, but sometimes.  OBVIOUSLY, I don't want any child to be sick or pre-mature or anxious.  But you know those Moms.  The ones who have THE sickest baby or THE craziest case of X,Y or Z that the Doctors have EVER seen.  She was one of those and it drove me crazy, because it felt like she was minimizing my experience with not just ONE preemie, but TWO preemies.  And that was what was making me want to punch her in the throat.
Anywho, she jogged off, squealer son in tow and we had a fabulous party.  And for the record, I am NOT giving her my kids' tricycles!
You have been SO good to me, I'm up to #39 now!  Thank you, thank you, thank you!  Remember you can vote every day!  Just click on this brown box and you're done.  One click is your vote, it's that easy!