This Mexican Life

Ever dream of selling everything & moving to Mexico? I did it and these are the stories. 

Company Hates Misery

I went to the beach alone this evening for a hot minute. I've spent more hours than not with our little babe lately so after a chunk of writing time today, Phil took Syd to the pool and I had glorious alone time. 

I took the Kindle to the beach and nestled into the shade of an umbrella knowing that a mango margarita was inevitable but pretending like I wasn't going to order one. Thunder rumbled in the mountains behind and the surf pounded the beach - so hard the ground shook. It was a wonderful respite from the heat and the mommy-dums of having a toddler. Just as the book got its hooks in and the spray from the ocean started to cool me down, this little bitchy voice started yelling complaints. 

It was classic teenage angst with a British or Australian accent. The nasty jabs were so loud and inappropriate I turned and looked. The dark-haired big mouth had steam coming out of her ears. Her siblings were cowering. I looked away after realizing I was staring at her, aghast. 

I moved. Close enough that I could order my margarita but far enough that the girls voice wouldn't cause a ringing in my ears. My hour of alone time proceeded pleasantly. The margarita was delicious. The book is good. I got up to leave just as the girl was headed out with her two siblings in tow. It was a coincidence, I swear. I didn't even realize it was happening until I heard her nip at siblings. 

We crossed paths. Without slowing down but absolutely lowering my sunglasses so she could see my eyes, I said to the girl, "Just because you're miserable, doesn't mean you have to make everyone around you miserable".

She gave me a nasty teenaged nod. I know her parents were out of earshot and her siblings didn't hear either. But she did. 

I don't pretend to be the politeness police. I've received MANY dirty looks from women in town because of how publicly naked I allow Sydney to be. I know my parenting techniques aren't always up to what the people around me think they should be. I'm okay with that. I certainly don't think that this girls parents were failing. They were letting her be an asshole. Fine. Whatever. It's their vacation. It's their family. She's their asshole. 

It was my hour of serenity. My book is about gangsters. Maybe the combination stirred up the gumption to say something to the girl. Maybe she'll be nicer to her parents tomorrow. Maybe she'll be on the lookout with a baseball bat and enact her own politeness police on me. Maybe Sydney will grow up and spit venom at me akin to what this girl did today. Maybe. But probably not.