I was going to talk to her and ask her if she thought she’d behaved appropriately, calling people to lie about me. If she even knew she was a liar or just that her perceptions were skewed. If she thought she’d be able to be friends with or trust someone who’d do that to her, behind her back.

I was going to tell her off after yesterday, when she invited herself to come grocery shopping with me and a friend, showed up, interrupted a conversation and then called me a big bitch for semi-ignoring her to continue the conversation I was having, and then left.

And then this morning, she took the final strike. She involved my kid.

We go to this playgroup drop-in thing every morning it’s available, at the local rec centre. Most of the moms who are into drinking coffee and letting their kids socialize while they get to, go to it. It’s pretty packed.

So it was pretty interesting when me and five other moms got to see her pointedly ignoring Isobel, someone she’d previously doted on. Then there were the two moms who overheard her telling her son that he couldn’t play with her. Then there was when I got to see her tell him to play somewhere else when I was telling Isobel to share a mat-toy thing with him.

Then there was the time that Isobel was on a huge mat with a mutual friend’s baby, talking to her and she moved Isobel away from her - actually picked her up and turned her around and then turned her back on Isobel.

Of course, that could only be topped by Isobel eating a snack that another mom had shared with her…the mom needed her container back and asked her to get it, but to leave the snack for Isobel. She took the whole thing out of Isobel’s hands without saying a word to her and walked away and when Isobel followed her, running, saying her name and that she wanted snacks? She turned around and told her to get her own.

To a two year old.

She then wouldn’t let Isobel sit in her lap during songtime and made a point of saying goodbye to everyone but me and Isobel. Two hours later, she called the friend I was walking with to invite her to go to the beach with her and some other friends tomorrow - but specified that the invite was only for my friend and her two kids, no one else, “get it?” she asked.

I was furious all day. I vented to a couple of people. One who said to confront her in a public place with JDawg, one who said fuck her, and one who said she’d have a hard time not punching her.

So, with this new behaviour, I was going to confront her. I was going to tell her exactly what I thought of her and her life and her parenting. I didn’t care if she tried to beat me up (cuz she’s classy, like that) because I was prepared to press charges, if it came to that.

I even, at one point, thought I’d let her boyfriend of eight years know that she goes back home a few times a year and cheats on him with his ex best friend. Or let her job know that the whole neighbourhood knows about her drinking and smoking habits at work.

And then I talked to JDawg, and he said to go for it, but know that nothing would change. That she’d still be the same person (or lack thereof) that she is and it would only make my life harder. He suggested I go to a different play time and just avoid her. (He’s trying to be a bigger person and that means not holding grudges or behaving badly based on anger, apparently. What an inopportune time, for me.)

That’s not fair to Isobel or I, though. We have friends there. We enjoy it there. It’s two blocks away, versus about 15. She likes the ‘instructors,’ who will be the same people instructing her pre-preschool classes. Bitch should have to leave.

But no.

Then. I had some clarity. I breathed. And I realized that this 24 year old girl is nothing more than an insignificant, immature, petty bully. Who never moved on from her childhood, will step on anyone at any time, and doesn’t seem to understand simple phrases without translating them into massive lies.

I realized that I don’t need to confront her, because I and everyone that I would be concerned for, already know that about her. I realized that she isn’t worth my day being ruined. She’s not worth me asking multiple people for advice and needing to vent and even, well, this blog post. She’s a small speck on my radar from now on.

Though I will go so far as to just do almost nothing. I will walk up to her at the next playgroup and say ‘I was going to do this or that out of spite, but i’m not going to because you’re not worth it. In fact, you’re too small and petty to understand how much you’re disliked, anyways.’

And then ignore her for the rest of our lives.

It’s still not entirely the higher road. But definitely better than the valley I’d usually live in.

Why is it that as soon as you enter the 18 month to four year old age bracket, you seem to lose the ability to say toilet? Everything becomes potty, and not just when speaking to your child. This totally has my panties in a bunch, considering how cool I used to be. Every so often, something happens which just further drives down the money-metre.

So, when Isobel was coming up on 18 months, I jumped into potty training mode for about as long as it took me to buy a potty seat and wrap it and watch her open it on Christmas morning. Oh, I think I read a few books, too.

She spent a lot of naked time in the apartment, peeing on the floor and TV time, sitting on the potty. We had a 50% success rate, which was based on accidental Dora-excitement-induced peeing, I’m sure. I dropped the potty training dreams.

[Because, let's be honest, I would love to get to gloat that not only did my kid walk early, but she potty trained at 18 months, too!]

Now, she’s 24 and a half months and we rarely have pulled it (meaning the dream) back out, cuz it’s just not seemed the effort, cuz she isn’t ready ready, and I only have so many potential witchdoctors to visit for a much needed potty-training-induced Valium prescription.

But then, picture it. We’re cruising through a bargain basement place, Winners, looking for housewares that I really shouldn’t be buying - because though I need them, I can’t really afford them at this juncture of the month - and we’re shoving things in the bottom of the stroller and behind her in the seat.

And she’s all legs in the air, showin the world her ass in a cute little princessey dress and pants. (That’s my girl.)

“Mama. Poop,” she says, pointing to her nether regions.

“You have to, or you did?” I ask back. Then we both see something shiny and we forget about it. Until I walk down the aisle after the next one and am hit with the stench that only a diet based on produce and rice milk can create. Ugh. Thank god they have a bathroom.

We go in, and hey, since I’ve gotta go anyways…Let’s just check the diaper damage first and then I can let go of the 20 last two cups of coffee that I drank. Completely shit-free, that diaper. Hmm. Apparently she stayed up drinking all night and now has the evil gassy hangover from it.

She decides that she wants to sit on the potty. Well, whatever - we’re here anyways, she’s basically stripped down. So I plop her on and she tries to drag 87 million miles of toilet paper from the dispenser into the toilet. That ended with an abrupt, “C’est la fin,” from me and a plop from the toilet.

Yup, that’s right. My kid? Totally dropped some kids off at the pool. The public pool.

[I promise, this is one of very very very very few times I talk about poop. On here.]