Baby Monitor Dirt

Filed Under: Life

When Cara was around eight weeks or so, the Crazy family attended a birthday party for the daughter (I’ll call her Sara) of some friends of ours. The friends are young [because you know, I’m so ancient] and Tucker and I don’t always [pretty much never] agree with their parenting style. Being the amazingly tactful people we are, we would never tell them that…we just bitch to each other…often.

Back to the party.

When we arrived at the party, Sara was throwing a very impressive fit. One minute Sara was screaming at the top of her lung, the next she was throwing toys at the guests. Occasionally, Sara would fill her mouth with chips and then spit them at the wall.

The party didn’t start until 7 pm, which coincided perfectly with Cara’s “witching night hour” and by the time we made it to the party, Caroline was fit to be tied.

After enjoying twenty minutes of Sara’s antics, I excused myself to Sara’s bedroom so that I could nurse Cara in relative silence and recover a modicum of sanity. I had been feeding Cara for maybe five minutes when Tucker stealthily let himself in.

“What the fuck?”

I looked over at him and rolled my eyes.

“Why don’t they do something about her?

“I don’t know” I said. “Why in the world are they having this thing this late anyway? Shouldn’t they be getting her ready for bed?” I asked in a very exasperated voice.

“If that kid throws one more fucking thing…” Tucker was at his breaking point.

“You know, sometimes I just want to slap them; I want to make them realize that it’s not cool for Sara to act like that. She’s going to be a terror when she goes to kindergarten.”

“She’s going to be a terror?! Have you not been seeing what I’ve been seeing? She already is a terror!” Tucker was absolutely fuming by then.

“Well, one of these days, Sara’s going to act like that towards another kid and be put in her place.”

Cara was done eating by this point and it was time to rejoin the festivities.

“One can only hope…” Tucker murmured as we exited the room.

We walked down the hall and noticed that no one was talking; Sara was still causing chaos, but none of the adults were saying a word. They were all staring at us. It was at that moment that I noticed the baby monitor…blinking innocently on the coffee table.

Sara’s mom’s face was RED and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that everyone had heard our entire conversation. I was so embarrassed that we grabbed out diaper bag and beat a hasty retreat.

They didn’t talk to us for a month.

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