Last February I was sent a nasty Dear Jane letter. Someone no longer wished to know me. I had a panic attack at her house and she told me that I was a bad parent and she could no longer bear to see how I interact with Shanna. She said I am far too hard on Shanna and my expectations are not age appropriate. There was more. I don’t want to read it again.

I ended a sentence with a preposition. Bah. That was hard. I’m glad I did it. I’m glad I didn’t wait. I’m glad I didn’t let her get friendly with a bunch of people so that it becomes “drama”. She doesn’t know those people yet. She has met them once. I don’t really want to get chased out of this community. I don’t deal with passive aggressive behavior very well. Someone who will be nasty to me then smile all pretty like has no place in my life.

Her son came over and wanted to play soccer with Calli and I. He got really angry when I insisted he share. He sat down and told me he wasn’t going to play anymore because I was mean. Calli had the damn ball first and it wasn’t his. Yeah. I don’t really need to deal with that family every week at the park. I hope she doesn’t come back. I really don’t think I was mean to him. I was very careful with my tone of voice. I can’t be passive aggressive enough for that family and I have no interest in trying.

Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. I was all set to have a gosh darned good day. By the way, I think it is hilarious that Shanna talks about the “darn freakin’ housework”. I did finally clean up my language some year. Like the year I heard how fluent my three year old was with “fuck”. Neither of us say it much any more. Ahem.

I feel weird. I feel like I was inappropriate in setting this boundary. I feel like I should have kept my mouth shut. It’s not like I own the group. But man. She was freakin mean. I don’t want to deal with her. UUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH.