The Night I Turned into THAT Lady

Tonight I became that uncool, bitchy woman I'd always shaken my head at before. And you know what? It felt kinda good.

The Banker and I were driving home after picking Becca up from my parents (Thursday nights we volunteer at a therapeutic riding ranch), when we'd just entered our little neck of the "city." It was about 8:30, the streets still busy. I was in the backseat of the Jeep, turned to entice Becca into taking the last of her final bottle. Suddenly, The Banker shouted, his hand on the horn as he swerved and simultaneously slammed on the brakes. My body, twisted to the side, jerked forward awkwardly against the seatbelt. Becca uttered a cry of absolute panic. In front of us, four boys in a tan Honda had crossed four lanes of traffic and almost side-swiped us. Obviously embarrassed, the driver quickly turned the car off the street, only to reappear minutes later and cut us off to make a quick right-hand turn.

So you know what I did? I memorized the license plate, noted the street I last saw the Honda turn on, and called the police when we got home some five minutes later. The dispatcher, a very kind-sounding woman, looked up the plates and based on where I saw the car turning, surmised the kids were returning home and said she'd call the residence.

Becca, while shaken, is now sound asleep. Me? My neck and lower back ache something fierce. And my pride is both bruised and gloating. Part of me shakes my head that I've become that lady, the straight-laced kind who doesn't get it when kids are just trying to have some "fun." But in the end, I'm a mom, and if dare endanger my child I will take you down. Those kids are damn lucky I wasn't driving, because I probably would have followed them home and given them a good screaming. (Something my own mom has done.) And if I see their car again...well, let's just leave it at that.

Needless to say, I get it--the Mama Bear or Lioness comparisons. And so if I've become that lady, I guess that's okay. Because while I remember my carefree teenage days, there's no excuse for endangering my cub.