I'm that mom.

motherhood Aug 21, 2019

I am that mom.

The “tablet to shut her kid up” mom. The mom whose kid had a four-month-straight hitting EVERY kid in sight phase. The same yoga pants as yesterday mom.

I am that mom.

I’m the mom people snicker at. The mom that is connected at the wrist by a leash on her toddler. The mom who has bags under her eyes as she tries to navigate through a day of no naps and ridiculous tantrums.

I am that mom.

I’m the mom who is crying at the pizzeria with her kid because he REALLY, REALLY wants his slice of pizza, but the pizza is scalding hot and she just can’t seem to blow hard or fast enough to cool the pizza down and he’s just screaming and screaming and it’s just physically aching.

I am that mom.

I’m the mom who bribes with M&Ms, sugary juice, new toys. The mom who sometimes serves lollipops for dinner and cake for breakfast.

I am that mom.

I’m the mom people judge because her child is so erratic, SO misbehaved. The mom folks scowl at because she “has no control over her child” and the mom they roll their eyes at because “typical millennials, am I right?”

I am very much that mom. And I very much am done trying so hard not to be that mom.

Because you know what?

I’ve been that person. I’ve done the eye rolls. I’ve stared and gawked and said “when I have a kid, I will never” and “organic only, no sugar till he’s 18” and “I can’t stand spoiled children.”

I’ve been there done it all and the only one I’m rolling my eyes at nowadays is the person I used to be.

I remember, clearly, a situation from when I was in college. I saw a little girl and her mom at our rec center pool. The little girl was slapping her mom’s leg, shrieking for another ice pop. I gritted my teeth as I tried to focus on my novel while sitting poolside.

I remember, clearly, the thoughts that were going through my head. “Come on woman! You’ll really let your kid do that?”

Yesterday, my son learned how to say “M&Ms.” Well, it’s more like “emma-nemma,” but you get the point. He asked me for M&Ms at breakfast, and I told him we were going to eat our eggs. He promptly began slapping my thighs, shrieking for emma-nemma or whatever it is he calls it.

Ouch. :)

I don’t mean to write this because I doubt your abilities as a future parent, or to discourage you, or to make parenting seem impossible. I really, really hope your future toddler is a million times less jerk-y than my own, and I hope whatever goals and boundaries you set for your family are respected.

I am not writing this because I think this is karma of some sort. I think my toddler would be a confusing, temperamental human regardless of if I judged that lady at that pool or not.

I wanted to write this because this world needs a lot less judgement and a lot more empathy.

I was at the mall earlier today, and my son Zaki had a meltdown because, well, he’s 22-months-old, and that’s just what they do at that age. I was getting increasingly frustrated, and I really needed a breather, so I popped out his lime green tablet.

Ten minutes of strolling around later, my breathing had slowed down and my mind felt clearer. My son was now smiling at his Cocomelon song, and his large, wet tears were now just two dry streaks of grossness around his cheeks. Both of us desperately needed that cool down time.

We ended up at mall’s play place, where we both chased each other, giggling and giving each other huge kisses and hugs every time we caught each other.

During our low point that day, I got so many judge-y stares and eye brow raises when I handed Zaki his tablet. At the playground, I got envious stares from moms who had a difficult day of their own.

That’s just how it all goes—you never know what the other parent is going through. It’s so easy to criticise and judge, but you never know what’s on the other side of the fence, and the best you can do when you see something you don’t necessarily agree with is stop yourself and say, hey, that’s fine, they are doing their thing, and I will do mine.

Parenting is hard work. We can be so hard on ourselves.

Let’s switch the “rules” up a bit and accept that sometimes, it’s just not that serious.


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