Now that school is out, I'm not ambushed daily by the Pushy European (P-Eu). However, she still has my phone number. And my cell phone number. After avoiding her for two weeks, I made the mistake of answering the phone three days after The Baby was born. It was P-Eu, of course, inviting Peanut over to her house for a play date. Knowing that Peanut had his nose out of joint about The Baby, I figured some time away would do him good. P-Eu even kindly offered to pick him up and bring him home so I wouldn't have to leave the house.
She showed up an hour late as usual. P-Eu Jr. climbed up her skirt and showed everyone her thong-clad Euro-ass. And then she tried to leave with my kid. In her tiny red convertible Euro-car. The one that has no seatbelts.
When I looked out the window and saw them climbing into the car of death, I waddled my postpartum self outside to stop them from leaving.
Me: Uh, wait, does that car have seatbelts?
P-Eu: Oh, no, it doesn't. Are you not okay with that?
Me: Um, no, not really.
P-Eu: Oh, well how about I have him ride in the front seat, it has a seatbelt.
Me: Hm. Well, he's not really supposed to ride in the front seat, either. No, I'm sorry, he just can't do that.
Seeing Peanut's face fall, I volunteered, three days postpartum, to follow P-Eu in my car and drop Peanut off at her house, even though driving was very uncomfortable for my crotch (yeah, I said crotch, deal with it).
I dropped him off, came home, and was pissed. I bitched to anyone who would listen about how that crazy P-Eu wanted to drive my child around in her death car. I badmouthed her mothering skills and her inability to follow the laws of this, our beautiful nation, as if I have room to criticize anyone. And I vowed to break up with P-Eu.
But, I didn't plan to actually tell her I'm dumping her. No, I prefer to take the passive aggressive route and just avoid her calls. She must have been embarrassed by the car incident, because she didn't call for an entire week. And when her name started showing up on the caller ID again, I didn't answer the phone. Problem solved.
Then the bitch got wily.
She called from her cell phone. And D. was home from work and didn't know any better, since her name doesn't show up when she calls from her cell. D. answered the phone and BAM!, my break-up plan was ruined.
I was even feeling a little weak, and considering letting Peanut have a play date with P-Eu Jr. After all, he's a nice kid. He can't be blamed for his mother's hyper-aggressiveness and complete lack of consideration for other people. Sure, a play date would probably be fine.
Except, P-Eu wanted a play date that day. When I told her no-go, we had plans to go to the library, she asked if I could take P-Eu Jr. with us. See, she wanted to attend a class, and if she couldn't find someone to take P-Eu Jr. she would have to hire a babysitter.
11 days postpartum, with three kids and a sore crotch (yeah, I said it again), P-Eu asked me to babysit. That takes some serious Euro-balls.
I am so totally breaking up with her.