I Was Blowing Kerosene (Gym Moms Revisited)

"And the breath from my chest I was blowing kerosene/ My lips and fingertips were stone/ I wore my heart on my jeans." - "Wherefore Art Thou, Elvis?" by The Gaslight Anthem

Okay everybody, are you ready for a rant? If you said yes, boy do I have a story for you. After reading this you will understand why this amazing Gaslight tune is my song of the day.

If you read my post from a few days ago, you already know how I feel about the Gym Moms, the parents that annoy the heck out of me while I watch the girls I take care of do gymnastics twice a week. For the most part I ignore it, just thinking snarcastic (snarky + sarcastic) thoughts in my head and subtly rolling my eyes as needed. Today I spoke my mind.

Sitting behind me on the bleachers was a woman whose picture belongs in the dictionary next to the term trailer trash. Harsh, I know, but today I'm calling them like I see them. I sat for nearly an hour listening to her belittle almost every child in the gym, commenting in her irritating, loud voice, on their weight, body shape, strength, skill level, etc. She described the five-year-old I nanny for was the wild girl with skinny legs. I said nothing, allowing my emotions to reach a boil, until two minutes later when I gave "my kid" a thumb's up for doing a flip. The evil Gym Mom tapped me on the shoulder and asked in a sickingly sweet Southern drawl if that was my child. I turned around, recoiling at the sound of her voice, and asked in a sarcastic tone, "The one with the skinny legs?"

Ms. Trailer Trash said nothing, she just stared like a deer caught in the headlights. I said that yes, she's my kid, but I wouldn't expect her to know that since she had been spending the whole hour criticizing every child in the building, except for her own of course. I went on to tell her that I pray none of those kids heard her comments, because no child should go home thinking that there is something wrong with how they look or what they do. She got this snooty, offended look on her face and said, "Oh, I didn't realize anyone could hear me. Why didn't you say she's your daughter sooner?"

Remaining calm like I had been the whole time, I responded in an even voice, "Because I am her nanny. She isn't my daughter but yes, she is my kid, and judging by your many remarks about all of these children, I figured you were too ignorant to understand anything rational I could have said." Take that Gym Mom!

She ended up moving to a different section of the bleachers (where she sat quietly for the rest of the class, thank you very much!), and as she walked past, I smiled and told her to have a nice day, polite as always. I don't think I'll be having any more problems with her, and hopefully I spared a child or two from hearing insults that could cause them a lifetime of trouble. Gymnastics is a competitive enough sport without having parents like that adding to the pressure. She was lucky I have enough self-control not to talk with my fists like I wanted to. She would have deserved it too, because there is never a reason to talk about an innocent, defenseless child like that. Never.

So that, my friends, is my rant of the day. And you know what? I'm proud of what I said and how I conducted myself. I didn't (totally) lose my temper, I didn't punch her, I didn't yell and make a scene. But I did stand up for all of those children who couldn't defend themselves. I will never regret that.