(Part of the Ebola Mom series)
Aaaaaaaand she ruined it.
“Here. I’m apposed to give you this. For your wedding.”
— Kid, age 4, wiping his runny nose and yogurt-covered mouth with his fingers, then using said fingers to hand me $100.
“Oh my god, have so much fun [at your bachelorette party] tonight! At my bachelorette party I got so drunk, there were MULTIPLE strippers, and there are just these ridiculous photos of me hanging off of stripper poles and, like, penises EVERYWHERE.”
— Parent of former student, just now on the street, while holding her 5-year-old daughter’s hand.
Excerpt from an email I received from a former student:
My drafted response:
(Continuation of Ebola Mom, Part 67 )
Ah, there it is.
The universe calibrates.
(Part of the Ebola Mom series )
My favorite part of this is that she doesn’t know how to space the exclamation points because I’m pretty sure she’s never used one.
Ran into a former student and his mom on the street.
Mom: “How’s the tutoring business going?”
Me: “Great! But, you know (smiling at the kid)— I really miss the classroom!”
Mom: “Oh please. No you don’t.”
Me (laughing): “Really, I do!”
Mom: “You do NOT!”
Me: “I do!”
Mom (pointing at kid): “You don’t have to pretend for him. It’s fine.”
Me: “Ok yeah I really don’t.”
Eric and I have been emailing with the wedding photographer in order to schedule our “Engagement Photo Shoot” (Yes. We know this should have been done months ago. SHUT UP.). We honestly didn’t even really want to do this shoot, as the whole concept doesn’t seem very “us.” But it’s included in the package, and we are unwilling to waste a dime, so we are going to do it– but we want it done OUR way.
So we emailed the photographer requesting that the shoot be of the two of us doing “everyday activities.” She responded saying that sounded like a great idea– and suggested a day at the zoo.
Eric was having none of that shit.
He emailed this back:
I am sitting in a large window nook at Starbucks doing work. The nook is meant for sitting– there is another woman here too, working on her laptop. As we’re typing away, a man walks in with a screaming baby. That’s fine– babies scream. You know what’s NOT fine? When he lay the baby down 6 INCHES FROM MY LAP and changed his shit-filled diaper, right next to my Peach Tranquility tea and half-eaten Kind bar.
Then, AFTER he changed the diaper, he took the baby to the bathroom with him so he could wash his hands, leaving the shit-filled wipes sitting on the ledge, right between me and the other woman.
This begs two questions:
This is a public restaurant. WITH FOOD! People are eating and drinking. You are NOT allowed to whip out a mountain of poop in my face. At least not on purpose!
NYC lost 10 points today.
So did parenthood.