A Lesson in Judgement

Hello blog! Long time no post! Nothing like a little anger to inspire the fingers and mind...

Last night my hubby and I decided we didn't want to stay in for dinner. So we loaded up the boys (and the devices of course!) and headed to Salsa. Its not a big fancy restaurant by any means. Its a local Frisco favorite of ours, as it is next door to our church and they always run coupons in the local magazines. 20% off every time we eat here? Sound good to me!

Anywho, I knew Logan was a bit whiny: no nap at preschool = a 20 minute cat nap in the car between the house and the bank and home again = waking up more tired than revived. But as it turns out, I'd skipped an ingredient on my grocery list this weekend so the casserole I'd planned on, was a no go and in all honesty, I just really didn't feel like cooking. So should we have gone out? No. But we did, so there.

We get to Salsa and the fighting has already began. Logan wants to play with the iPad not the Nook. This is the constant battle in our house. The Nook is only cool to Mommy, not to any of the men in the house. But you know what? It has Angry Birds and that's all Logan's going to play anyway! Of course it's Star Wars Angry Birds and not Space Angry Birds so of course his little world is imploding. Is there a difference? Really? He eventually gives in as he realizes he isn't going to win (see, we stood our parental ground! +1 for the parents!) and plays with the Nook. Food comes, another battle there, I've really got to stop letting them put the french fries on his plate! But he eats... sort of. So he's had 1 chicken strip and we're trying to get him to eat the other one. At home, he'd eat 5 without a problem, but of course, because we're out, it must be a battle of stubborn will!

Meanwhile a family has arrived. A set of grandparents, a mom and a little girl around 18 months. I teach preschool, I know how old the kiddo was. They were nothing spectacular, they sat across from us, the little girl was playing with mom's iPhone (no judgement here!) although she was spitting her quesadilla all over it, but maybe you have more money than I do and can replace that iPhone whenever you need to... not my call to make.

Logan progressively melts down. He's screaming about not wanting to eat but he wants to play with the iPad when he gets home... sorry dude, you don't get rewards for poor behavior. Jason takes him to the bathroom for a little private Daddy/ Logan talk. While he did drop the argument, now he's just a crying mess.

Now let me stop you here. Yes, by now I know it is more than time to go. I'm trying to get paid out and leave but you know sometimes waiters have jobs and we have to be patient as we aren't their only table. I get that. So we inform Logan he has one more chance to calm down or he and Daddy are going to have to go wait in the car. He loses his shit! That probably doesn't even come close to explaining what happened but it's the best I've got. He just screamed. And while my kid is prone to screaming in a silly, goofy, crazy, playful way this is not something he normally does out of anger or frustration in the middle of a restaurant. I. Mean. Shrieked! Like a banshee. Everyone stared. And while I was mildly embarrassed, kids throw tantrums, especially 3 year olds and it isn't the end of the world. So my husband removed him. While he screamed death upon the restaurant.

And then I looked up. And self righteous grandmother is holding up her red napkin to cover her mouth while side glancing at me over the top of it. Now, I know I have no idea what she said but since her daughter (could be her daughter-in-law for all I know) and her husband glanced (please read: outright turned their heads to look directly at me) my way, I get the gist of her talking points. My whole body began to shake. Forget being angry at my kid. I am so over all the judgment. From other mothers, other women in general. Parenting, motherhood, it's damn hard. And we all do the very best we can. So keep your comments to yourself.

While I waited for the check I stared at her. I couldn't help it. Here you are a woman who has raised her kids. Done her time. And you are still passing out your judgement? You're still staring at younger mothers thinking how you could have done it better? Please tell me how you haven't learned anything in your 55+ years? You don't remember what it felt like to be me? What, your kids were angels? They never misbehaved in public?

So I paid my check, and I checked my anger and I walked up to her table. And I said, "Just because you hold up your napkin doesn't mean I don't know you are talking about me and my child. Mind your own F'ing business!" And I walked away. I'm sure people stared. But I didn't look back because to be honest I was really proud of myself. For standing up for myself as a mother. I don't do it often enough. And yes, I said F'ing, even though it wasn't nearly as gratifying but there was a child at the table and children in the restaurant. So I'll say it here...

MIND YOUR OWN FUCKING BUSINESS!!!!

All of you! Laugh. Look at me with empathy. Smile and say you've been there. But don't you dare climb up onto that shiny, white pedestal and start preaching your own version of how mothers ought to do things. Because I have news for you: there isn't just one way. I wish there was. I wish we all read one book and we all did it one way. It would sure as a hell be easier. But it would also be so damn boring. I like that we're all different. I like that we are all raising our children differently. I don't want to live in a world where everything is the same.

And with all of that, here is my apology: To any mother I've ever judged. I'm sorry. I know better. I know it's hard, I know you're tired. I know we all had grandiose plans of what it would all look like and not a damn one of them has come true. I know we planned on teaching letters and numbers with smiles and endless praise as they surpassed all of our stupid goals we'd set. And in reality they tore up the flash cards and threw them at our face and we fell asleep on the playroom floor.

I know you wanted to breastfeed more than anything in whole wide world. And you couldn't. So you cried and you bought a can of formula.

I know you wanted to stay home and do everything with your kiddo. Everything was going to be homemade and magical. And you hated every second of it. And that is okay.

So lets start passing out those apologies. Lets start granting forgiveness. Lets put our arms around each other and figure out how we walk this walk together.

But to that grandmother at Salsa last night, Fuck You.