Losing My Humanity

I’m not sure if I am a completely normal person. I like to think everyone else does the ridiculous things I do, but a lot of this is done in private so I never know. Then again, the way everybody else carries themselves leads me to believe that these adults don’t have moments where they question their humanity as I sometimes do. Here are 6 moments in my life that might make me an animal…

I love McDonald’s chicken nuggets. Like LOVE them. I don’t give a damn if they are made from sludge and ground meerkat noses, held together with play-doh. Those little golden bits of happiness have been in my life since childhood and the affair continues. You could see why it hurt my soul when my child took one bite of a single nugget and placed the container in the trash. I stood there staring at the sad little box. My little loves trapped inside. There was a bit longer than a brief moment when I sincerely contemplated if it would really be so bad to retrieve those nuggets… from the GARBAGE! They were in the box right on top afterall. I didn’t do it, but I don’t think other normal adults even contemplate eating something from the GARBAGE.
I slipped into my child’s room while she was sleeping and stole batteries out of her toy for my vibrator. No need for elaboration. It was a new low. My saving grace was that I bought her new batteries the next day as I couldn’t bring myself to refuel my child’s toy with
tainted sex batteries.
While standing in line to get into a wine festival, I saw a man pushing an elderly woman in a wheelchair. The walk was a bit downhill and somehow the man lost his grip on the wheelchair and the elderly woman went speeding down the hill, crashing into crowd control ropes… And a wall. I laughed. HARD. Crying laughter. Doubled over. The woman in front of me in line gasped and shouted “Is she ok?!” and she seemed simultaneously genuinely scared for the strange old woman and annoyed at the man who lost control of her. Come to find out, it was her mother that had come careening down the hill and her husband who had lost his grip…. And I was laughing like an asshole right next to her. Luckily when pulled upright from her now downward facing position, the old woman was laughing as well. This might have been the most fun she’s had in years. It made me feel justified in continuing to laugh as I assured her daughter, “Look! She’s laughing! She’s fine!” She was not amused. I remain amused.
At the state fair, my daughter wanted to visit the barn with the rows and rows of chickens and roosters on display. They are all in cages but there was one particularly angry looking chicken. His feathers were ruffled and he had that wild look in his eyes as Sydney passed him. I paused and saw him kicking at the cage and to my surprise it popped open. I called Sydney’s name and just as she turned right in his direction, he popped out of the cage furiously flapping his wings at Sydney. She took off running and screaming. It was one of the funniest things I have ever seen! So funny in fact that I couldn’t help my kid because I was seizing up with laughter. You know the type of laughter that’s so hard it hurts your stomach and blurs your vision? Yeah that kind of laughter. In my hysterics, I couldn’t catch her as she ran past me, out the barn. Luckily other mature adults were standing just outside the barn to see a small child screaming in terror and running, face wet with tears and grabbed a hold of her before she escaped into the crowd. They seemed quite befuddled to see me following out slowly, still holding my stomach and laughing at her terror. Thanks for catching her!
I tend to agree to attend things and then once the time comes to do it, I don’t want to anymore. I attended a volunteer meeting that I really didn’t feel like being at when Sydney was a baby. As usual it was aggravating and highlighted why I didn’t even want to be bothered with this group of people. To get out of there, I took her pacifier away during the meeting so she would cry and I could blame her tiredness and crankiness on why I had to leave. I never returned. Desperate times, people.
My kids have reached an age where they can earn money by doing things around the house. They complete the chores and I seldom have cash on me to pay them with. When they aren’t looking, I pay them with their own money out of their piggy banks… and I never return it. If they ever catch me, I will consider it a teaching moment that they should know how much money they have so people don’t take advantage of them.