Thursday, March 8, 2012

Road Rage and Gold Suburban Mom

There are times when stone cold reminders slap me in the face that I’m a grown up now and have three children and have to watch my tongue and actions.  One of my biggest flaws that I have to acknowledge is that I am a serious road rage sufferer.  It became apparent this morning when I was stuck behind a car to get into Lily’s school.  There are 2 lanes – the lane I needed was wide open but the car in front of me didn’t seem to think she had enough room to pull in to the lane she needed, (I assure you, she did; two car lengths to be exact).  I know that because I had far too much time to stare at how much space she had and slowly came to hate her guts.  She just sat in the road allowing traffic to build up for miles.  I’ll admit I was clutching the steering wheel pretty hard but I hadn’t said a word.  From the back seat I hear Reid yell, “JUST GO, LADY!”  The record skipped.  I’ll get to how I’m going to work on that and better myself only so you won’t think I’m a monster because I’m learning from my mistakes and all that jazz so just sit tight.

I first have to get my rant out of the way; there’s just no way around it.  See the problem here is that everyone behind the wheel of a car is an idiot except for me.  It boggles my mind that I literally only drive a few miles back and forth each day and the number of idiot moves I witness on a daily basis has me tempted to duck tape my car in mattress foam or just finally achieve the hermit/shut-in status I’ve been working towards for the past 6 years so I don’t have to deal with it and can avoid eventual blood pressure meds.  Right of way, how 4-way stops work, you can turn right on red, GET OFF YOUR PHONE and please for the love of Pete just GO!!!!!!!!!  These are my daily struggles but one thing in particular that doesn’t involve any of these things has started to crawl under my skin to epic proportions.   There is a situation in the carpool lane at Drew’s school and my anger towards the situation has started to become unnerving and unnatural.  There is only one lane that you can use to pick up and drop off your kids.  There are 3 lanes total  --  one to pull in, one to pick up, one to exit.  You CANNOT pick up your child unless you have reached the pick up lane by the sidewalk where they are to wait until you’ve gotten there.  They CANNOT cross lanes to get to your car sooner because that’s obviously dangerous.  Every parent has to wait their turn except for one mother who drives a gold suburban who every single day, bypasses the entire line by using the lane you are only to use after you’ve picked up your kid, (the exit lane), and allow other parents to pull up.  She pulls up beside the line and has her daughter walk through the cars because I guess she’s superior and doesn’t have to wait in the line like everyone else.  Now the reason this is getting to me sooooo much is because the principal at Drew’s school is hardcore.  She carries a walky-talky and has a scowl on her face that makes a person suspect she’s just sucked on a bag of lemons and talks like she’s chewing her face.  I have lovingly dubbed her “Robo Principal” for my own amusement.  She goes out there every day and struts up and down that carpool line in a full-on battle stance – *march, march *hands on hips.  She’s just lookin’ for trouble.  She brings the hammer down on a different parent every single day.  If you didn’t pull up fast enough, if you left too much space in between you and the car in front of you, if you picked your kid up a moment before you reached that sidewalk she will approach your car, have you roll down the window and chew you out in front of the entire line.  Every parent knows who’s about to get it because she makes a beeline for them and it’s on like donkey kong.  If there were background music it would be something along the lines of Darth Vader’s “Imperial March”.  I’ve fully expected her to rip parents from their vehicles and beat them about the head and neck with that walky-talky before.  We’ve all had our turns getting our butt-chewings from her so the shame isn’t as harsh as it was in the beginning.  Well of course, everyone except gold suburban mom.  Like I said, she does this daily and has never once been made to face to wrath of Robo Principal.  She’s never gotten caught, not once.  Either she’s luckiest broad I’ve ever encountered or she has the timing down to an art form.  She’s always made it back out onto the main road by the time Robo Principal has stormed out of the side doors – walky-talky in hand, scowl on face, hands on hips.  It’s a running joke because even Drew is aware of gold suburban mom and aware of my utter distain because clearly I can’t keep my mouth shut.  I sit there in that damn carpool lane and just think about getting out of my car and walking up and knocking on her window and just screaming:  “YOU’RE A CHEATER!  CHEATER MOM!  CHEATER MOM!  DOES EVERYBODY SEE THE CHEATER MOM!?!?!”  Then I’d point at her, get all my glory when the parents shake their heads in judgment and then I’d feel incredibly proud of myself.   (……………………………….Don’t worry, I’m considering therapy.)
But after hearing Reid mimicking my lack of tolerance and short temper, I’m going to make great efforts and strides to take it down a notch and do my best not to be the woman seething with rage behind the wheel of my big black SUV..  Today I will watch gold suburban mom cheat and I won’t let it ruffle my feathers in the least.  Today when I get pulled out in front of, (and I will), instead of flipping the bird I will smile and wave.  I will stop being in such a hurry and stop plotting the death of the person in front of me who can’t find their gas pedal.  But before I grow up entirely, I will pull out one last childish antic and show you a picture of the gold suburban.  I couldn’t catch her in the actual act of cheating because with my luck Robo Principal would have pummeled me with her walky-talky for having my phone out in a school zone.  Just do me this one favor…  Look at this vehicle, have a look of disgust and mutter “bitch” under your breath.  Love you, mean it.