I’d like to think all parents have these moments.

Stepparents have them, too, and in a way that smacks you across the face and makes you want to crawl in bed and die.

Lemme splain.

About, oh, I dunno, a year or so ago, I bought some bubbles.  One of the staff at Tony’s daycare mentioned how easy it was to transfix a baby with bubbles, so I bought your typical $1 bubbles.  We got home from the store, and I cracked open the bottle.  I fished out the wand, brought it up to my lips, and Jack bellowed,

“NO BUBBLES IN THIS HOUSE.  BUBBLES ARE FOR OUTSIDE PLAY ONLY.”

Yes, those were MY words.

I’ve been a stepparent to Jack for many years now, and let’s face it, I had NO CLUE what I was doing when I started.  In fact, I emailed someone the other day a How-To on being a stepparent with what I believe to be very sage advice, along with the caveat of “If I had written this two years ago, it’d be vastly different .. and it will be vastly different two years from now.”  It’s fluid and dynamic, that parenting thing.

I thought Jack needed rules and boundaries and structure when he was younger.. and I still stand by most of that .. but something I felt very strongly about was manners, etiquette, and a respect for property.  As such, apparently, I strictly enforced that bubbles are for OUTSIDE only.  They might stain.

And I didn’t remember that.  Good thing I didn’t have to; my parrot remembered for me.

I was also reminded the other day of another BUBBLES moment.  Tony woke up groggy from a nap, one that had come as a crash landing and hadn’t lasted long enough, apparently.  As Bryan teased and poked him, I got increasingly angry.  “He just needs to wake up a bit,” I’d whine, and realized I was defending Tony’s grouchy behavior.  I distinctly remembered, with a start, an EXACT instance where Jack had the same behavior and I thought, “We all wake up, just wake up and don’t be grouchy.”

Everyone told me “it’ll be different with your own child”, and they were right.  But in such a way that there are SO MANY times that I feel I owe Jack a do-over.

I feel like I owe you a million posts.  It’s been a full week.

So I feel pretty confident in saying that: TODAY WILL BE A MILLION TIMES BETTER THAN LAST MONDAY.  Mainly because I’m ready to kick ass and take names this Monday.

I started a new job on Friday.  It’s a job well-suited to me, although I’m just now figuring my way around it.  It’s been a long time since I’ve been new at something, starting from scratch, but you know?  That’s what life is all about.  Gotta crawl before you can walk.  I’m saying all of these analogies to make myself feel better that I’m not crazy busy yet.

Although, yes, the whole men-in-the-jeep thing last week REALLY sucked, I would say that the HARDEST part of this last week has been learning to relax a little.  Going from a crazy-hectic job that I worked 12-14 hours a day sometimes to a new job where I’m just now finding my feet?  Leaves me feeling a little lost.  Not needing to jump online at 5 a.m. to check what fires need to be put out has me feeling a little unnecessary.  And unnecessary, in my past experience, breeds unemployment.

So I’m telling myself to relax.  To just breathe.  To calm down.  Every time I’ve started a new job, I’ve given myself two months to feel comfortable into it.  It takes that long, I figure, to learn a rhythm, to understand a team, to establish a routine.  I’m just .. it just makes me nervous.

BUT, in that same vein?  It was awesome to not have a work computer at home this weekend.  It was nice to sleep until 6:30 and then just have ME time until Bryan and Tony woke up.  It was nice to enjoy Sunday evening without the increasing dread and terror that typically overcame any activity.  It’s just.. different.  Have to learn to enjoy different for a little while.

OH, BUT ALSO: my child, this weekend?  Is suddenly an adult.  Ate a full-sized cheeseburger with both hands, while drinking from a CUP WITH A LID AND A STRAW and then RODE A FREAKIN’ CAROUSEL and ohmygod, he will be driving, like, tomorrow at this rate.

I cried when he picked up the cheeseburger.  I’m just sayin’ I MAY BE A LITTLE EMOTIONAL RIGHT NOW.

HOLY SHIT.  Y’all, for real, as I was typing this, I realized that I suddenly feel unnecessary everywhere. Oh, God, with the sudden epiphany of blogging!  With my baby suddenly all self-sufficient and my new job not really fitting yet, I’m all sorts of lost and .. wow.

Enjoy the different, Sarah.  And breathe.

Dear Precious Little Baby Girl,

I am sorry for your circumstance.

Please grow to be a better person than your father.

The morning was so nice.  Like, really, really nice.  Had a great meeting with my freelance gig, cut a few spots, made my way to the office.  Got tons done, all my junk packed and loaded in the car, and I left work at 5 feeling like, you know, I was in a good place.

Driving to pick up Tony, that all changed.

About two or three miles out from Tony’s daycare, I noticed a purple SUV tailing me.  I never in a million years suspected they were following me, since I am not ACTUALLY a ninja (although I play one on tv).  I merely thought, “Oh, look, they’re going the same way I am, albeit it very, very close to my rear bumper.”

When we both pulled into daycare, again, I thought nothing of it.  It was five o’clock.  It’s a busy time for child pick-up.

When they pulled in next to me, blocking my car door with their vehicle, I thought little of it.  People get busy, people don’t notice that what they do affects others.  I merely shrugged from inside my car and pointed, half-smiling, to the fact that they’d blocked me in.

That’s when they rolled their windows down and started yelling at me.

“YOU AIN’T GOIN’ NOWHERE.  YOU GONNA SIT RIGHT HERE TILL THE POH-LEESE COME AND THEY GONNA WRITE YOU A CITATION OR SOMETHIN’ CAUSE YOU KNOW YOU RAN THAT RED LIGHT AND TRIED TO HIT US.  YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID!”

Um, sorry?

“DON’T PRETEND YOU DIN’T KNOW CAUSE YOU DID YOU SAW US DRIVING AND YOU TRIED TO HIT US AND THE POHLEESE IS ON THEIR WAY AND YOU AIN’T GOIN’ NOWHERE.”

Yeah, um, guys, I think you’ve got the wrong gal.  Also, I’m here to pick up my child.  Take my tag number, do what you feel you have to do, but I’m going to get my baby now.

“YOU KNOW WE GOT A BABY IN HERE TOO AND YOU WAS TRYIN’ TO HIT HER WIT YOUR CAR!”

Yeah.  Okay.  Going in now.

I shook off the insanity as I slipped the car door open as little as I could and slid out, then made my way in to the daycare.  Hindsight what it is and all, I should’ve asked for help then.  I should’ve.  I didn’t.

I got Tony and we beebopped around, like always, saying goodbye to the fish and to the water fountain and to every other object a two year old says goodbye to on the way out the door.

And outside, the purple SUV was gone.  See?  I did the right thing by walking away.

I picked Tony up and we looked for the sun (no) and the moon (no) and birds (heard ‘em), and then I strapped him in.  I got in my side of the car and started my engine, and before I knew what was happening, a purple SUV pulled in behind me, so close that I felt his bumper on mine.

I was scared, and I’d be lying to say otherwise.  But I was also MAD.

Hindsight what it is and all, I should NOT have approached his car.  BUT BY GOD, I DID.

What do you think you need from me?

“WE DONE TOLD YOU YOU AIN’T GOIN’ NOWHERE TILL THE POH-LEESE GET HERE AND THEY ON DERE WAY SO I AIN’T LETTIN’ YOU LEAVE.  WE GONNA GET YOU.”

I see the baby in the back.  A sweet, cherubic face, sleeping through all of this.  There is some mercy in this story.

Is this REALLY the best thing you have to do with your time today?

“I GOT ALL THE TIME IN THE WORLD AND YOU AIN’T GOIN’ NOWHERE.  YOU TRIED TO HIT US AND THE POH-LEESE GONNA SETTLE THIS.”

We both have babies.  Let’s get them home and move on, hm?

“NO, YOU AIN’T LEAVING.  I AIN’T LETTING YOU LEAVE.”

I go back to my car and slink in the front seat, unsure of what to do.  I call Bryan, who is OF COURSE out of town, and I begin to cry as I tell him what’s going on.  He tells me to call the police, and I say they already have, and he says Sarah, they’re probably LYING and you need to call them.

I hang up with him and call 911.  The lady calmly took my information and informed me that, no, they did not have a request for a squad car to my location.  So she would send one immediately and would stay on the line with me until one arrived.  But I was by no means to get out of my car again.

I saw a squad car enter the parking lot so I thanked her and hung up.  I called Bryan back and said that there was a cop present now and he says I know, I called the center and they sent the assigned one over. (I LOVE OUR DAYCARE. HAVE I MENTIONED THAT LATELY?)

I get out and talk to the cop, no longer trying to play strong.  I sob that these men won’t let me leave, and they’ve got me terrified and I have a child in the car and I HAVE NO FUCKING CLUE WHAT THEY’RE TALKING ABOUT.

Then they’re out of the car and yelling at me again so I head back to the car and sit in there, windows up, trying to convince my empath of a son that, no, Mommy’s fine and, no, we can’t go home yet.  Just a little longer.  I’m so sorry, baby.

I hear the yelling go on and on and then the second responder, the one I had requested, shows up.  He comes to my car immediately and calms me down, and while the window is down I hear them yelling again that I was trying to kill them.  Because they were black. I stopped mid-sentence, mouth agape, at this.  The cop shook his head.  “Don’t listen to that, ma’am; they’re blowing this all out of proportion.  We’re letting them get some steam out.”

“SHE WAS AT A DEAD STOP AND WE WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE INTERSECTION AND SHE SAW WE WAS BLACK AND SHE SLAMMED ON HER GAS PEDAL AND TRIED TO HIT US AND SHE DIDN’T EVEN SAY SHE WAS SORRY!”

Jesus, I say.  Really?

The cop shook his head again.  “Take some deep breaths, ma’am.”

Still screaming.  So much yelling.  Both men, yelling at the cops, who are calmly informing them that what THEY did is a chargeable offense and what THEY’RE doing is wrong and I owe them nothing and, no, a citizen’s arrest doesn’t work that way and I’m crying and the baby’s crying and OH MY GOD THIS ALL SUCKS SO HARD.

The staff at our daycare came out periodically to check on us, but JESUS, how embarrassing.

The cop comes back over.  “Ma’am, we’re making them leave.  And I’m going to stand here and talk to you and calm you down for about ten minutes after they’ve left the premises.  Do you need us to call anyone for you?”

Who?  Who would you call?  Yes, I’d like you to call Dog the Bounty Hunter.  Is he available?  Cause I need him at my house, STAT.  Hell, I’ll even take Johnny Weir at this point.

I take deep breaths and say the biggest lie of the day, even bigger than SHE TRIED TO KILL US AND MY BABY BECAUSE WE’RE BLACK: I say, “I’m fine.”

I drove around for an hour before I felt comfortable pulling into any driveway.  And I was still a nervous wreck.

And now, although I’m not scared any more, I’m antsy.  Any noise in the house catches my ear.  The baby’s not sleeping well.  Part of me wants to take a Xanax to sleep, the better part of me knows I need to be alert tonight.

Growing up, I never ever worried about defending myself.  I knew I could.  I knew I was smart enough and strong enough to do so.  But now?  I’m not defending me, and I realized today how incredibly inept I am at it.  I went home and priced tasers.  I’m debating carrying pepper spray.  I’m wondering if any dojos around here teach MMA or at least a self-defense class.

Because, today, I was made a victim.  And I promise: NEVER A-FUCKIN-GAIN.