I Will Fuck You Up

Some of you know me in real life.

Some of you know me through telephone conversations, blogs and e-mails, maybe even a BBS from long ago.

A close handful of you have met me, shared a beer and lamented over life, and a few, my special few, have grown up with me.

If there is anything that stands out about my personality it is my compassion towards animals. You don't mess with my dog, and not just because the fucker is old as dirt, but because you don't fuck with any dog when I'm around or I will lose it.

Now take all that passion I carry towards animals and double it, triple it, quadruple that shit, and that is how I am towards my child. If you have read me long enough, you know how I can be a Mama Bear and it's not because I am a single mom. I do believe I would be just as fiercely protective over him if I was married, or his father was in his daily life.

There is something that just doesn't turn over in my brain and register when I see harm around someone or something I love. Missing is the gear in the back that adjust the direction of rotation, and my fear will burn a fucking hole in my head if I let it. And if there is harm, anger comes to surface, even rage at times. I have had to check myself on several occasions and in many situations regarding my child, and usually, usually, I am able to remain composed.

Today... I became unhinged.

You see, when your five-year-old has been taught, practically had it beat into his head, to stop and look both ways before crossing, you loosen the reigns a bit.

Sure, you don't have to hold my hand to cross the exit of the parking garage, we're still inside the gate. You looked both ways and I crossed the same small exit three feet in front of you, there were no cars.

And then there was.

She had to have been driving about 50 mph through the parking garage (speed limit in our very crowded complex with its underground garages and numerous exits is 15 mph), and the only reason she slammed on brakes was because I jumped in front of you, pushing you over to the side. Otherwise she would not have seen you, so small, your world is only 3'5" and she would not have seen you.

I didn't lose it until the c-u-next-tuesday rolled her eyes at me as I stared at her, completely shocked, having just witnessed my child inches from being hit by a sudan. I waited for her to wave, mouth the words "I am so sorry!" or something.
Nothing.
Just a roll of her eyes.

You almost killed me kid, you fucking bitch, and you're going to roll your eyes at me???

My first thought was to chase after her car, like the lunatic my brain was telling me to become, adrenaline flowing and beat the living shit out of her. Instead I got her license plate number, and stood there screaming for her to slow down, pointing at the back of her windshield.

I know what garage she's parked in and I will find her car this evening, whereupon I will leave a kindly, cuntly note stating the following:

I have a child who turned five in August, and you almost killed him this afternoon. I have reported your vehicle to the front office. Considering we live in the same community, and I am bound to see you again, I strongly suggest you slow down.

It is taking all that I have to not write dirty words on there, not call her a stupid cooze who needs to have her license revoked, and most certainly not threaten to take a lead pipe to her head.

Tell me I am not alone. Tell me this is normal to feel this much anger towards someone who nearly harmed my child.

Nearly three hours later and I am still not calm. Though I would never act on them, I am still having evil thoughts of sneaking over this evening in the black of night and bashing her headlights in with a baseball bat.

Tell me this is normal.

*counts to ten*