Day 596: Sick and tired

Here is something I will freely admit about myself: I don't do sick well. I am not one of those people who soldiers through, who suffers in silence. No, if I am suffering you're going to hear about it. Along with the moaning and groaning, my already sparse reserve of patience reaches near undetectable levels. Things that I normally might not even notice suddenly have me pulling my hair out in irritation.

Take yesterday, for instance. On my way home from work I stopped off at the mall to pick up my daily supply of OJ and cold medicine. The girl at the cashier walked me step-by-step through the process of using the Interac machine like she personally had just invented the technology and was unveiling it for the first time ("Okay, and now choose your account... uh huh, right... and now it'll ask for your personal id number... good..."). It nearly drove me insane.

And then the other day I almost got into a fight with a four-year-old at the bookstore. In terms of size, I could've taken her. But I'm pretty sure she would've fought dirty. I don't like to interfere with other people's parenting styles. Unless they result in my kid being on the receiving end of an ass whooping. Then I have to step in, right? This girl was a pint-sized bully in a really cute dress. She was stealing Maddie's toys, throwing things at her head, pulling her chair out from under her, pushing her onto piles of books. It was outrageous. And for all of her spunk, Mads just is not the confrontational type. So I started out gently doling out wisdom on the principles of sharing to the two of them, but that soon turned into me taking the toy she was poised to launch out of her hand and flat out telling this girl to sit down and stop it already. Enough is enough. Then her mom, who's been wandering about somewhere, pops back just long enough to say, "Oh, are you sharing? Good girl!" to her little terror. Um, I guess it depends on your definition of sharing. If it involves reigning tiny fists of fury on unsuspecting toddlers, then yup, she's got it covered.

What do you do in these situations? I feel like I may have crossed the invisible line, committed the ultimate sin of trespassing on another mother's ground. But I thought I should at least try to teach Maddie to stick around and work it out, even though the attempt was unsuccessful. What are the alternatives? To stay and take a pounding? Or to up and run? Oh, who knows? Chalk it up to another parenting lesson (not quite) learned.

Happy Thanksgiving to all of you who are South of the border, I hope it's a wonderful one!