Welcome, local citizens, to one of the littlest known but most deeply felt S- Lists in the Upper Midwest. You were nominated for actions going beyond the the territory of the merely irritating into the land of the downright a-holy.
1. Checker at the Jewel across the Chicago border (where, unlike Oak Park Jewels, they actually sell alcohol).
Yes, I know how it looks. My kids both dancing on the edge of naptime unhinged, my eyes bloodshot, and my cart full of alcoholic beverages. That's right, I've got three bottles and a box of wine, two 12-packs of beer and a bottle of whisky.* And you probably can't see it, but you might smell it: I have a little spot of baby poop on my cut-offs.
So I'm a Britneymom. But even Britney is well above the drinking age, and so am I. You don't need to card me. I haven't seen my ID for several days and now I'm emptying the changing pad, diapers and everything else from my purse onto your conveyor belt and my preschooler has escaped to play with the lottery ticket vending machine, because, yeah, I let her play the lottery too. And unlike me, she doesn't even get carded.
You see this gray hair all over the front of my head? Do you? And if I had given birth to this 3-year-old during my sophomore year of high school, don't you think my abs would have bounced back better than this?
*And a dozen cups of this really delicious juice-sweetened, hormone-free yogurt.
2. Target cart-corralling employee who said, "Excuse me" while I was trying to grab a third cart after the first two proved unusable due to missing seat belts or plastic blocking off the leg holes in the baby seat. When I moved out of your way, you added two carts to the row.
That's right, you asked a customer with two little ones in tow to move out of the way so you could add those two carts to that particular row. What are you doing, playing a live-action game of Tetris here? No other row would do?
3. Mom in my local moms group, who like almost all the mothers in this group has only one child, a baby.
Ma'am, you only barely squeaked into the Hall of Fame, but you managed to piss me off when my tired and hungry preschooler cried at a recent lunchtime get-together, and you announced: "Now that I'm a parent, I never judge people when I see their kids throwing a tantrum in public."
Gee, thanks for letting me escape your condemnation, oh merciful one. In exchange, I hope it only happens once or twice, or at the maximum three times, that your future 2-year-old collapses in a howling fit just as you get to the front of the line at the post office during the holiday rush. I sure hope all the kicking and biting doesn't cause you to have trouble picking her up with one arm as you load your packages onto the scale with the other, and most of all, I hope I'm there to tell everyone present how little I'm judging you.