Dear Fellow Parent,

I am writing to you now not to create feelings of guilt or shame, but to honestly and sincerely say, “I’m just glad it’s not my kid.” As I stand and not-so-discretely stare (perhaps longer than I should) at your child’s very public meltdown, I am not judging you. I am not looking down at your parenting capabilities. I am not disgusted at your child’s outburst. I am not thinking a single negative thing towards you. I am smiling (perhaps on the outside as well) because I have been there too.

Maybe you look at me and both of my children are acting like angels at the present. Maybe I only have the baby with me. Maybe I am childless and look like I couldn’t possibly understand what it is like to have children. Whatever your current perspective of me may look like, I assure you that in my brain, I am sending you nothing but positive mom vibes and encouragement. I would walk up to give you an actual hug, but that would either inspire you to think I am a complete weirdo or would induce your fight mode and I would get punched square in the face. Neither of which is a desirable option for my person. So I hang back and watch the event unfold.

As for the people throwing shade, don’t worry about them. The majority of us empathize with you completely and, again, are just happy it’s not currently happening to us. For the people who actually have the nerve to say something snarky to you, it’s okay to give a tight-mouthed-smile while silently hoping they step in gum in the parking lot. Those people either don’t have children or suffer from the memory loss that occurs when ones’ child is fully grown. I mean, it’s rude either way. But some people were just dropped on their head too many times as a baby. And there’s nothing we can do about that. So hold your head high, momma, and maybe wish a bird poops on their head in the parking lot as well.

If I am being completely honest, other than wishing I could give you all the support and encouragement in this painful moment for you, I am also thinking something else. In the spirit of total transparency, I am completely tempted to go grab a lawn chair and a bag of popcorn from aisle five (Let’s be real there is a 97.6% chance that we are in Target right now.) and watch this whole moment unfold. A part of me wants to shove handfuls of buttery kernels into my mouth as I watch someone else’s child act a fool.

I do not say this with malicious intent. I say this because watching a child that is not mine have a tantrum moment brings me a sense of joy. Why? Because it makes me not feel alone. In this world of parenting, it can feel isolating. It’s hard to make time for yourself with young kids. It is especially hard to make time for adult friends. Most of my days are spent alone in my house with just my kids with a brief moment of me time while they are napping and/or at preschool. There are days I wonder if I am doing anything right. There are moments that I question if I’m doing enough. There are times I long for deeper relationships and a connection with other adults. Add my child losing their tiny child mind into the mix and I am straight ready to hightail it to Mexico for a little mommy R&R.

So as I stand daydreaming about eating popcorn while watching your child have a moment, I guess what I should really be saying is, “Thank you.” Thank you for making me feel less alone. Thank you for reminding me that other parents have moments like this too. Thank you for encouraging me through my trenches (even though it may not feel like your child screaming over not getting a toilet plunger could possibly be doing anyone any good). Thank you for reminding me that we all have days like this and it’s not exclusive to me (though it sometimes feels that way). From one mom to another, thank you.

xoxo

Brittany