"No Soliciting EVER!" reads the new note I taped to my door. After my last set of run ins (see: Mother-of-the-Year Picking Fights with Giants) I decided I needed to make a newer, bolder sign.
This morning the girls and I all headed to the chiropractor -- my zumba/stripper dancing class keeps knocking my knee and shoulder out. While we were at the chiropractor office, the girls, who don't normally fight and misbehave there LOST IT. There was yelling, arguing, hair pulling and hitting.
And our chiropractor doesn't put up with much. She is a very conservative Christian who doesn't like gay people, non-christians, misbehaving children or...well...people like the REAL me. But I keep quiet while I am there because she is the only chiropractor I have met who makes me feel better. And whoever can keep me on my fitness regimen that burns 700 calories a session with running and gyrating my way through zumba class every week is somebody I need to keep on my team.
"You girls are having a very hard time today," Dr. C told my children. "You girls aren't getting anything out of my toy chest today and mommy is going to have to leave and do some disciplining." (*"Disciplining" is code for hitting (spanking)). (No. I don't hit my children). But Dr. C believes I should, as does some nut case she loves...I think it's Dr. Dobson???
For the rest of the time, she stared at all of us as if we were cretins -- I could feel her stare telling me I wasn't managing my children well. I don't know if I was or wasn't. I was tired, they were having a bad day. Shit happens.
We drove home and the fighting, whining, and crying continued. It was lunch time and they were hungry. I cooked lunch and tried to enforce the "pick up your toys before you eat!" rule. Eventually, I won that fight and the girls sat down to eat. Thank goodness...peace for five minutes...until...
"Mommy! Someone is coming to our house!" Sophia announced the arrival of solicitors which got the other girls out of their seats and the short-lived calm I had turned back into chaos.
"Sit down. No one is coming to our house. They will leave," I told the girls feeling confident about my easy to read new sign taped by the doorbell.
"No mommy," said Sophia, "they are coming. They are at the door. Look! Look!"
SON OF A MF'ing Bi***! But I went to the door, maybe it wasn't a solicitor...after all...the sign was up... Maybe it was neighbors?
I opened the door to two late-adolescent looking girls. To be more exact, I opened the door to "Sister Randall" and "Sister Sara." Their name tags eannounced that they were from the church of Latter Day Saints.
Upon reading their name tags I went from 0 to bitch in record time. Not only were they soliciting when my door told them not to, they were soliciting for my belief in some dude named Jesus. (Here are some blogs on my thoughts about religion: Namaste and Namaste 2). But in sum, don't push it on me, because I don't care what you do and you shouldn't care what I do.
I open the door, armed with the irritation I felt from my chiropractor visit, armed with my adolescent defiance of "You can't MAKE me believe in God," and looked Sister Randall in the eye. Before speaking, I reminded myself of Ella's voice as she modelled me calling the last guy a "fuckhead" and told myself to stay calm.
"There is no soliciting here," I say quietly and calmly while pointing at the sign BY THE DOOR BELL SHE RANG, "and that means no soliciting for religion as well." I then slam my door against their, "Ok! Have a nice day! Thank you!"
Oh man! Their stupid, perky, happy little voices made me want to turn right back around, rip the door open and boot their happy little asses right off the front porch.
But instead...in a scene familiar from just a few weeks ago, I turn to see three sets of big, blue eyes staring at what mommy did to the people who came to the door.
I walked past their big eyes, back into the kitchen and they bounced along behind me with only Sophia -- of course Sophia -- verbally expressing her observations...
"BOY! You suuuuuurrrre told them!"