Play date from Hell
Today I had one of the worst play dates in the history of bored mothers. And it reminded me that really, play dates are not one bit about the kids but 100 percent about the moms. As they should be. But today’s was the equivalent of a root canal. Combined with food poisoning. In a dumpster.
So here’s what happened. The other day, I get a random phone call from a person I’ve met maybe once wanting my kid to play with her kid. Without going into too much detail so as not to incriminate anyone, I’ll just say our kids know one another. We do not.
This was the first mistake. Don’t agree to go spend time with someone that you don’t already like, kids be damned. Because you know what? Kids will play with anybody. They’ll make friends with other kids at the park or the library. Or they will just play with themselves. Wait. No. BY themselves. It’s one thing if you are inviting the kid and mom to your house to play, which you should only do with actual FRIENDS because nothing is creepier as an adult than going into another adult’s house that you don’t know and looking at kids do things. But calling someone that is basically a stranger to go meet at a place where other kids are anyway is kinda stupid. Just go and let your kids make friends, k?
So I end up chasing 3 kids (yes, mine and hers) around a park/splash pad on a 97-degree day for an hour and a half while she sits in her camping chair in the shade the entire time. Luckily, though, after I’d worked up a huge sweat, her son threw a bucket of nasty splash pad water right on me and soaked me to the underwear, so that helped. She claimed she didn’t see him do it, so no apology was necessary. Which is weird because he was literally the only child with a bucket at the splash pad. I’m sure it was someone else, though.
The only thing that made this play date worse, if you can imagine, was the presence of Mr. and Mrs. Crystal Meth-Southeast Region. I’m not exaggerating when I say that the NASTIEST people I have EVER seen were at the park today, and that is saying a lot because there are always nasty people at the park in TN. Like the 65 year old grandma in a string bikini. Or the 395 pound woman in a bikini. Or basically any adult at a splash pad in a bikini.
But usually those folks are harmless. Sure, they are smoking Marlboro Reds at the picnic tables while their kids drink Mountain Dew slushees, but still, harmless.
This family took white trash to a whole. ‘nother. level.
First off, we had the standard issue string bikini with tee-tiny cut-off jean shorts. Her bathing suit bottom had to be bigger, so I’m not sure why she even bothered. Mr. Meth had no shirt, prison ink and a bad attitude. Their son, I might add, wore a Spiderman mask the entire time and no less than three kids came running from the playground screaming and crying because he had scared the crap out of them. I heard him growl repeatedly. In other words, a real charmer.
So Mr. and Mrs. Meth staked their claim on a bench and made their way on to the splash pad. Now, I have no problem with adults getting soaked. Get in and enjoy with your kids. However, I do NOT think it’s necessary to lie down on the fountains in the middle of the pad. But that’s just me. The Meth Family disagreed.
When they weren’t lying down, they were chain smoking (natch) while ON the splash pad. It’s bad enough when parents smoke ON the playground. Hello, that’s nasty and dangerous and I will stomp you if my kid gets burned. But really, smoking in the midst of spraying water is just stupid. And nasty and rude, but mainly stupid.
Once they decided to take a break from smoking and lying down, Mrs. Meth apparently needed her bikini adjusted. And who better to do so than her loving husband? So naturally, he cupped her breasts (yes, I said it) while she untied her top and retied it. True romance there.
Soon after, I noticed the Mr. and Mrs. sitting on the bench, and the Mrs. was sitting with her head down at her knees. Could she be sick? Could the constant stream of Camel Unfiltereds and Hawaiian Punch be making her sick?
Luckily, no. Mr. Meth was just helping her with her bacne. What’s bacne, you ask? Why it’s BACK ACNE, of course. Get it? BACK-NEE. Yes, he was popping her back zits. On a bench. In broad daylight. And when he was done, she did what any lady would do in that situation, and she walked over the splash pad and rinsed her back off with a fountain. THAT CHILDREN WERE PLAYING IN.
After I fainted from trying not to vomit the entirety of my stomach, I realized that now it was HIS turn. She was going at his face like a woman digging for gold. I feared I was suffering from heat stroke and hallucinating, but luckily this was after some little angel had dumped a bucket of water on me (THE SAME WATER THAT CLEANED HER BACNE!) so I wasn’t hot enough to be imagining things.
I went to gather my things. I had had enough. I was exhausted, wet and nauseous, the exact opposite of how any play date should end. So as I gathered up my children and while I planned their bath in boiling hot bleach, I looked up and saw one last moment of love between the couple of the year.
Mr. and Mrs. Meth, canoodling in the fountain, while he cleaned his toenails and popped a zit on her face.
Want proof? Here you go. Enjoy.