Sometimes you just can’t sugarcoat things and have to write about the real. I could ignore it, and try to write about something else, something a bit more positive, a bit more “sunshine and fucking rainbows” so to speak, or I can just spill the truth.
I’ve had “one of those days.” One where you rip a kid – not your own – down (unintentionally), burst another kid’s – also not your own – balloon (as good as literally), and use obscenities in front of a child – this time your own – out of pure frustration. Oh yep, I’m on a winning streak today!
We went to watch a friend in the GC Marathon today, and I had to be the asshole to point out that a sign had the wrong “your” on it … sorry 10 year old, I obviously think you should know better! Seriously, what JERK FACE points that out? Why couldn’t I have just said “Fantastic sign! The runners will love it!”
Then a few hours later, at the finish line, when a woman with her two kids, stroller and two balloons tried to push in front, balloons all waving in my face ‘n shit, I managed to knock the balloon off it’s stick instead of just swatting it out of my face. Up, up, UP in to the sky it went! Seriously?! I just wanted it out of my face, not out of the atmosphere!
And after being told, so many, many, many times, to watch where he’s going, stop kicking sand, there are people everywhere, I snapped and told my son I was going to smack his ass. Yes, ass. I said that. He may have also overheard me tell his father, “This kid is killing me today!”
You would think the inspiration all around me – people in wheelchairs doing marathons, strangers helping fellow runners over the finish line when their legs have given out from running 42.2 freaking kilometers, people achieving their goals and dreams (of which I’ve come to the conclusion I have none!), would be enough to make me a bit more jovial, but no. I was a cranky, child-soul-destroying cow. I think I just have to put the day behind me and
hope know that tomorrow will be better. Because I will choose for it to be.