As I rounded the grocery aisle by the milk and eggs I heard a vehement voice from the other end, “That f***ing b**ch, she can’t do that to me, stupid fat b***ch.”
I looked up at the speaker at the other end of the aisle, a woman, nicely dressed, speaking into a blue tooth receiver by her ear. I wondered if I should say something to her, along the lines of, “please remember this is a public place and there are children here…” when she approached me, pulling the ear-buds out of her ears. She came right up to me with a slight smile and starts to explain. “That’s my seventeen year old, still in bed, lazy b***ch.
Oh my gosh- she’s talking about her daughter! It sounded to me like talking about the woman your man cheated on you with.
The lady must have gathered I was of a similar age with older children or maybe she just needed to talk. She went on and on; “The way she talks to me, that no-count- she can’t say anything to me. I had to ‘yes ma’am’ and ‘no ma’am’ my stepmother and I hated the b***ch. Her stuff is all over her room, and my friend offered us this nice dresser. Twelve drawers, big mirror on top. She says ,’I don’t want it.’ I say, ‘You’ll take that thing and you’ll…’ I work, and she’s in the bed until 3, sleeping all hours of the day and night, lazy fat b***. I tell her, ‘You better get up outa the bed and get yourself a f***ing JOB or I’m gonna kick your ass outa this house, I tell you I will.”
Now, I am thinking, I had this same conversation recently with a friend, only it was much more comfortable. No name-calling. In fact, I think, I don’t know a mother of an adult child who hasn’t felt this way. I want to tell this stranger in the grocery store that this is nothing new, it’s absolutely normal and they both just have to get through it with love. What I say to this mother is, “She needs to get a job. You need to help her find a job, so she has a reason to get up and out. Do you know anyone who can help her get a job?”
So she can get out of the house. For both their sakes.