Last Friday was a day. I worked of course, starting my day at the store at six in the morning. Yes, I said six. I worked until almost two, and then rushed home to change with little time to spare before picking up Caitlin. Of course I got side tracked by old Greys on Lifetime, so the next thing I knew we needed to leave right that minute to get to pick up. And because it's still hot as the sun here, I forgot to grab Capri Suns for the girls. So there we were after school, burning and overheating in the sun. How do we remedy this situation? Starbucks of course.
Let's do some real talk right now. Some of you reading this may be new to this blog, and I realize that you may not know of all my downfalls as a mother. One of the biggest, in the Hubb's eyes, is that both my daughters drink sweet tea. They have been drinking sweet tea since being in utero. Even when my other mama friends were giving up caffeine for their entire gestation, I was sneaking off to Starbucks twice a day for Venti Black teas, extra sweet. After they were born, and twice daily trips to the Bucks was no longer an option, I started making tea at home. So while most of your kids were getting milk and apple juice in their Dora the Explorer sippy cups, mine were drinking sweet tea. And if we ran out while out of the house, they were drinking talls with green straws.
So my girls have known the magic that is Starbucks for as long as they have had memories, so when I asked them what they wanted to drink after school Mackenzie yelled, "Starbucks!!". Now up until this point we have all been getting black teas. It's been like our cool club, but Friday Caitlin asked for a Mocha Frapuchino with out coffee, with whip and caramel swirl. I swear, she said that is verbatim. Looks like Grandma has been teaching her somethings while I have been working. Ok, let's order it. You're in second grade now, get that frap game girl!
We got our frap and our teas, and cookies on the side, because hello, I'm already batting a thousand in the motherhood department, and we went to the grocery store. We get to the store and I put Mac in the cart with her tea, and Caitlin is carrying her frap and her cookie and her face is full of crumbs and her hair is wild and Mac starts asking for powdered donuts because Starbucks cookies aren't her jam today. Whatever. It's Friday. I'm not cooking no matter what happens. So I get what I need plus Lunchables and some powdered donuts and we cruise the store. I break open the donuts and give Mac two. Everyone is happy and sugared and caffeinated within an inch of their lives. Perfect.
As I'm using the self check out I notice another mom. She is there with her son and daughter and they are getting a few things, I don't even pay attention to what. What I do pay attention to is the fact that she keeps staring at me and my children. So I smile, and she gives me the stink eye. The Stink Eye. She gives me the dirtiest look. I haven't gotten one of those in awhile. So I take a minute to regroup. What am I doing that is offensive? I haven't used the eff word. I'm not wearing a cleavage bearing top. My kids aren't being complete assholes in the grocery store. What gives?
Then I look at my girls. Mac has a white powdered ring around her mouth, as if she has been doing blow. Next to her in all her powdered sugar glory is her tall Starbucks cup. Then I look at Caitlin with her wild hair, her shoe boot for her broken toe, and her half drank frap. That's when it hits me, I'm being judged. I'm totally being judged.
I smiled my best, "eat-your-heart-out-bitch smile", stopped and let my kids pick out a lottery ticket (which is pretty much illegal since they are nowhere near 18), and I roll our asses out. But all I really wanted to say was,
Sit down lady. There is no coffee in that frap. My kids do just fine with sugar and caffeine and nitrates. I know what you are thinking Jude Judy, you're thinking that I'm breaking all the rules. You're thinking that I didn't read any parenting books to get me ready for this role. But you would be wrong. I did read those books and they made me feel bad about myself. They made me feel like shit. So I threw them out. And if a friend sent me more, I gave them to Goodwill. And yes, I'm breaking all of your rules, but I'm not breaking a single one of mine. Because if I want to feed my kids McDonald's for the rest of the month I will. And if I decided to give them ice cream for breakfast I'll do that too. Because these are my kids. Mine. So I decide. You raise your brats. I'll raise mine. Deal? Now go sit the eff down.
As a side note, my kids looked way happier than her kids. I bet she makes her kids eat kale. Clearly I'm the one doing it right.