Why You Gotta Be So Rude?
Any friends who have been victimized by my foot-in-mouth disease know that my sarcasm frequently topples over into asshole-ism. Just last week I was dissing barrel leg jeans to my girlfriends. These jeans make our butts look flat and legs look bowed, like a raised-up frog about to be dissected by some 15-year-olds. I feel like doctors have spent a solid century identifying the root causes of hip dysplasia… only for influencers to decide that actually, that look is totally cool right now. We’re all just out here walking like we’ve ridden a dozen steer today? I think they suck. And also, I apparently suck. Because in the last breath of my rant I was notified that my friend on the other side of the table was currently wearing Barrel. Leg. Jeans. I’m an asshat.
IN MY DEFENSE: her jeans were a subtle cut. And she looks cute in anything. What a gift. Hashtag blessed.
I might dish out a lot of shit. But I at least think I’m pretty good at taking it too. My kids have conditioned me for that.
I’ve always raved about how cool language development is. And as my kids have gotten older, I’m fascinated by the overlap of language development and societal norms. Kids are so totally oblivious. They can say the meanest stuff and it’s just so pure and innocent because they don’t understand conversational etiquette.
Maisy has been riding around in the car this week, screaming from the backseat: “PLAY THAT LITTLE GINGER BOY!” She’ll loudly point out nativity scenes in public: “HEY! That’s that little ginger boy!” [Little drummer boy… DRUMMER boy sweet girl.]
This past weekend at dinner, Mina squealed unprompted, “Hey, Mommy! Remember that time you made a REALLY bad dinner? That tasted horrifying.” Yes. Yes, I do. We’re just ordering Chef Chen’s the next time mommy wants sweet and sour chicken.
We have no family local to us, so Nick joined Zary for Grandparents Day at school. She jumped off the bus that afternoon and greeted me with, “Mom, I was thinking. You probably should have come to Grandparents Day instead of dad. You have a LOT more white hair than him!”
I think they’ve built up my tolerance, and I’m now an impenetrable wall against rude. Last weekend at our church I was working a fundraiser for the kids’ school before mass. A woman approached and asked what I was doing. I explained the deal with gift cards and the funding for the school and the kids, and then asked if she’d like to participate. Then I had to explain it again. And again a third time. She finally caught on to what I was selling after the 4th or 5th go around.
“Oh.” She said, “No thanks. I’m not interested. Also, you did a really bad job explaining that. Like, really really bad. Have a great Sunday!”
….. “thaaaaaank you for the feedback?” I squeaked out, and then broke down laughing while I packed up my apparently horrible fundraiser.
I couldn’t even get upset. My kids say worse stuff to me on the daily. And despite all the hours of etiquette videos I watch and manners books I read, it’s obviously not doing much for me either. I wonder how many strangers I’ve accidentally offended in the last day alone? It’s kind of a shocker I even have girlfriends to share coffee with. Hopefully I still have a few left after that barrel-sized faux pas last week…