Worthy Of A Re-post

This is the first time I've ever re-posted old content, but the other day I realized that a year ago at this time the first of my three, six-week-old boys started the chicken pox.

And the infamous Gucci handbag incident took place in the doctor's office. Who knew vomit and haute couture could be so funny?

If you missed it the first time, here's my original post in full:

Dec. 2, 2008

Yesterday I mentioned that I witnessed a moment of cosmic justice that will keep me laughing for months. Here's the story.

Isaac and I and a gazillion other people were in the pediatrician's office at 4:45 waiting to be squeezed in. It was the Monday after the holiday weekend, so most of us had enjoyed the holidays with our sick children. The general atmosphere was one of deep despair and there was much wailing (children) and gnashing of teeth (parents).

Into this pit of misery walks a super-put-together mom with her freshly manicured nails, her Prada head scarf, her skinny jeans and her Gucci handbag. (If it was from Target, like mine, I'd call it a purse. But, as it was Gucci, "handbag" seems more appropriate.)

Now I have nothing against people who are stylish. OK, I do, especially when I'm sitting in the waiting room trying to remember when I last had a shower, and then feeling even worse when I realize it was that morning, and I just couldn't remember.

But Mrs. Put-Together looks at all of us and cops the attitude. With a sniff she directs her child, who was also completely put together in a cute little sweater vest and expensive little shoes, to "sit over there in the corner away from all these sick people."

I'm thinking, "Look lady, these are the doctors' sick appointment hours, so you wouldn't be here if your kid wasn't sick. It's not like we have the plague." Then I looked at poor, little spotted Isaac and thought, "OK, maybe my kid has the plague, but not everyone's does."

She settled into her seat with a flounce and her cell phone started to ring. As she's digging in her Gucci handbag for the phone (shouldn't a bag that fancy have a pocket just for your cell?) her kid turns around to face her and says, "Mama!"

She's too busy digging for her phone to see it, but we all saw it coming.

As she snapped, "What!" the kid threw up all over her and right into the Gucci handbag. We all suppressed our laughter as her phone gave a few last pathetic, gasping rings and died in the pool of vomit that was now gracing the bottom of her bag.

It was truly a moment of cosmic justice, karmic payback, a little chuckle from God -- take your pick. Unfortunately, I didn't get to see how the drama ended because Isaac and I finally got called back, but I did enjoy the beaming smiles on the faces of all the other parents in the waiting room as I followed the nurse to the back.

It was not the mom's put-togetherness (I can make up words. I'm hardly sleeping here.) that bugged me, it was her attitude. And it was satisfying to see that attitude so richly rewarded. Judge ill of me if you want, but I figure I did my part in not enjoying the moment too much by not laughing out loud when it happened.