Tuesday, May 29, 2007

Yapping bitches

I trudged to school for my afternoon pick-up through the bucketing rain today, wearing full eye make-up and lipstick as a result of an afternoon client meeting, teamed with and my trusty $10 hooded parka. Classy.

At school, I tied the dogs up by the gate and scurried across the yard to join the huddle of parents waiting under the shelter. No sooner had I started chatting to one of the few dads there, than the unmistakable yapping of small dogs cut through the dull thud of the rain. I started to go.

'Whose dogs are they?!' exclaimed one of the nearby mums.
'My god! I know!' boomed another, raising her voice in the hope of its reaching the culprit.
'They're right next to the SCHOOL GATES!' huffed yet another.
'Right!' said a fourth. 'I'm off to the microphone. That's IT!'

Meanwhile, I stood frozen, vacillating between running to move the dogs a few metres from the gate, as was my original instinct, and hiding so the pack wouldn't pounce and burn me at the stake.

When they mentioned the microphone, I jumped to it.
'That's my dogs they're talking about' I whispered to the dad. He laughed.

I bent in the rain to untie them and moved them down the road. As I turned to rejoin the schoolyard, I ducked my head again, though the rain was easing.

Back under the shelter, I made eye contact with the dad.
'If people really want you to do something, they shouldn't speak like that' I am surprised to find myself say. 'I was almost too embarassed to move the dogs then. If they'd asked reasonably instead of shouting about how awful the person with the dogs is, they would have got a quicker reaction.'

I realise I am speaking loudly.

I realise that once again, I am furious with petty playground politics and the way I always seem to take the role of the weird kid at school who can't do anything right.

I fetch my son, who has unbuttoned his shirt as I TOLD HIM NOT TO, revealing the bitten-off hole in his skivvy underneath. (He did it himself in the midst of a temper tantrum.) His parka is in his backpack and he stands shouting his news of the day into the rain.

'Stupid yappy bitches' I growl under my breath as we duck back across the yard and out of the gate.

At home, I ask F to peel off his wet clothes and put them straight into the washing machine. All except the skivvy, which goes straight into the bin.

7 comments:

Kirsty said...

Yep, a glass of red is in order. I've got a wee bit left you can have. Cheers.

Ariel said...

Cheers to you too! Got any chocolate? I've run out ...

redcap said...

Oh for chocolate's sake! Do they seriously not have anything else to occupy their time? They're like overgrown kids themselves! What's wrong with people?

Ariel said...

Thank you! Sometimes I wonder if it is indeed me. But no ...

Eleanor Bloom said...

Ridiculous people were irritants in my day today also. I completely relate and you have my sympathies.

So many people are just plain nuts, and they all egg each other on, and as a result WE look like the weird ones! I was described as weird at school also, and looking at the rest of them took great pride in it.
BTW I've got chocolate if you need. And vodka (thank God).

meva said...

The pack mentality can be pathetic. Not the proud and effective hunting of wolves, but the irritating yapping of indulged lapdogs.

Ariel said...

Hee hee. Yes, looking at the rest of them at least I do feel my life is maybe more chaotic, definitely materially poorer, but more interesting ...

Vodka and chocolate, you lucky thing!

Meva, you've got it in one!