Old Moms Open a Can of Whoop A** at the Park

Hi…I know you may be a bit frightened by the title of this post.  Not to worry!  While I can put my “bad-a$$” panties on for certain occasions, most of the time I’m a pretty docile creature:)  However, there is a skeleton in my closet that a friend of mine reminded me about recently and insisted that I share it with the world…more specifically, the old moms of the world.   Now when I say old, I mean old like me…(I was turning 43 at the time)…not elderly…although since hitting my 40’s, I feel elderly when I get up in the morning, but that’s another post!  It happened a few years back when I ran into a close friend who had recently turned 39.  Looking back, it is actually pretty funny!  So let’s get cozy and ready for my ramble…or maybe I should say rumble (wink!)

My friend and I took our kids out to a local park one fine fall day. We were dressed in typical “old” mom attire…jeans, cute t-shirts, banana clips and shades. (Yes, I wear my Marcia Brady stick straight hair in a banana clip on outings to the park. I don’t enjoy eating my hair every time I open my mouth to speak when the wind blows, so banana clip it is.)

There was a “young” mom (mid 20’s) with her kids that found her way over to us. She sat down and began to chat. There was another group of moms across the way at some picnic tables setting up for a party. My friend and I knew the other group of moms and had said our hellos upon arriving at the park. Young Mom was not familiar with them. Young Mom pipes up in her squeaky Valley Girl voice, “Don’cha just hate to see old moms with really young kids? I mean, like, do they think kids are the new fountain of youth or something? Look at those ladies over there! I mean, all the kids here are under 5! Unless maybe it’s Grandparent’s Day!” She laughs hysterically.  Now, I happen to know that every one of those mothers over there is at least 10 years younger than me. Yes, Young Mom was fooled by my fabulous genes. I win the age game at every carnival or amusement park we go to. My husband loved to outwit the carnies whenever possible. The funny thing is that Smitty was 3 years younger than me (go ahead…call me a cougar or a cradle robber, take your pick), but once a waitress asked him if he had his Senior Citizen discount card! LOL!

Young Mom continues her old mom bashing. “Why would any kid want an old wrinkled hag for a mom? Old moms are so annoying with their know-it-all attitudes and their really bad fashion.” (Wow…obviously, she can’t hear my brain exploding or at least smell the smoke from the fire of my brain exploding over here..bad fashion?? Seriously?  I worked really hard to pull out just the right t-shirt to hide all food stains that I might incur while I was gracing the public with my presence.  Bad fashion…humpf!)

I am not a happy camper. I am silently observing Young Mom trying to determine my next move. Do I want to let her in on my little secret or do I just want to see how far she’ll go before I go ninja on her perfectly coiffed little head in the parking lot. (oops…did I type that out loud?) (and yeah, she was NOT wearing a banana clip…now who’s got bad fashion?  Yep, Young Mom, that’s who…)

My friend, who knows what lengths I will go to in order to protect the innocent, is watching me carefully. She pipes up, “How about we get the kids and hit the walk trail?” She raises her eyebrows at me. I nod and gather up the wee girl and the stroller.  Young Mom says, “That sounds good! That’s a good energy boost! At least we don’t have to figure out how to push a stroller while shuffling along with our walker too! Snorty snort snort!”

Now. It’s. On. I can no longer hide the fact that I’m wearing my bad-a$$ panties today.  “Why do you have such a negative attitude about older mothers?” I ask gritting my teeth into a very fake smile. She smirks, “They’re just irritating. They always have their stupid first aid kits in a baggy, juice boxes strapped to their hips. I just think they over do it.” Steam is pouring out of my ears. The juice boxes on my hips are beginning to vibrate. She’s about to find out how lucky she is that I happen to have my first aid kit in a baggy handy because I’ll be using it to mop up her blood about 30 seconds after I sock her in the mouth!

My adorable and very peace loving friend goes to gather up the young’uns. She’s been at this rodeo before and knows the bull is on the loose. Young Mom laughs and points at one of my “old” mom friends as she is struggling with some of the party decor. “See what I mean?”  She continues to laugh and point.  I whirl around to unleash my fury when Young Mom in her fit of laughter trips, falls and busts her lip on the sidewalk. She starts bawling like a big old baby. She touches her lip and finds it’s very bloody. “My foof is foose!” she cries. “Oh frap! My foof is fawing out!” What a pitiful creature she is, that Young Mom. “Here, let me help you.” I reach down and yank her to her feet. “Ouf!” she huffs. “Fat huwt!” Her lips are the size of Cincinnati. I really want to crack a collagen joke at this point, but bite my own lips instead.

I reach into my bag and whip out some handi wipes. (ok..I know these are going to burn her lips like fire, but it’s all I have and Karma is a b*tch!) I help her dab the loose pebbles and blood away from her mouth. My friend jogs over with an unopened bottle of water to help wash away the rest. We get her patched up and feeling better. She realizes something is weird. I notice her checking out my First Aid in a Baggy. She humbly thanks us and goes to gather her kiddos. My friend asks me if I shared my secret with her. I shook my head. “I didn’t have a chance because she did a face plant before I could say anything.” We laughed. “Those crazy young moms!” my friend giggles. We notice that Young Mom is heading back from the parking lot toward us. Oh yuck…

“Just wanted to say thanks for helping me. That was so embarrassing!” She flutters her hands all around. We just smile at her and move on. One of my other friends from the party yells over to me, “Happy Birthday, Dawn!” I smile and wave. Young Mom says, “Oh, it’s your birthday?” I nod. “It’s actually next week.” We continue shuffling the kids toward the car. “That’s so cool! How old are you going to be?” she says with her big busted lip smile. I stop and turn toward her. “I will be 43.” The look on her face was all the justice I needed. She just turned and walked away with her head down. “That’s right! I’m an OLD MOM!!!!” I yelled after her. “Bet you’re glad this old mom had her first aid in a baggy, aren’t ya!” (Juvenile, I completely agree, not even remotely one of my best parenting moments, but darn it, it sure did feel good!) My friend (who is normally very shy and not verbally aggressive on any level) yells out, “Yeah, old moms kick butt! Don’t you ever forget it!” We high-fived and laughed like hyenas all the way to our mini-vans.  Last we heard, Young Mom was still struggling to get her stroller into her BMW.

A final note…I have lots of friends that are young moms! Lots of them! They are all fantastic mothers and friends! Please know that I am not bashing young moms with this post. Just sharing a story about a young mom bashing old moms! I love all my young mom friends!!!!

Thanks for listening to my ramble and remember, Old Moms need love too!

54 thoughts on “Old Moms Open a Can of Whoop A** at the Park

  1. I hopped over here from Aurora’s blog (Sunny Side Up). I loved this post! So freakin’ funny! 😀Okay, I’m a few years shy of being an ‘official old mom.’ But as a 36-year-old mom, I feel soooooo far removed from those ‘young mom’s’ sometimes.I am definitely ‘over prepared,’ as she said. But I’m one heck of a good mom! Regardless of my age!Thanks for writing this. 😉


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