I read a post about my friend who… well… She was with her young kids, at a race track… with dirt… young kids… a race track… it was hot…
The Only One
Other mother’s children appeared to be behaving… THOSE mothers appeared to be enjoying their time at the race track with heat and dirt and children… I will not call them names, I will not call them names…
Has anyone ever been in that spot? You know, Every-other-mother-but-Me is smoothly negotiating the bends and curves of a public outing with her children. Jen’s story reminded me of a trip to the grocery store not-so-long-ago… like, last week.
Lucy, My Princess of Three (Reign of Terror)… Empress “Iwillnotbend”…. I digress.
We were… In Public. Lucy decided she wanted to swim. In Public. To the check stand. I had a choice. Pretend I was the good mom The Public expects, OR know my devil daughter and choose my battles.
You wanna know what I did? I. Let. Her. Swim.
Yes, on her belly, a few dozen agonizing feet to the check stand. Some bystanders were delighted, some ran to the bathroom to vomit and sanitize their hands because of all the disgusting floor germs my daughter was “swimming” through. I chose to focus on the delighted people. My checker was one of the delighted folk. I told her that I was choosing my battles and that the germs were of FAR LESS concern than what would happen if I tried to make Lucy please the germophobes.
No one really knew that my choice was not only better for me and Lucy, but better for all products stored in glass within a one mile radius…
Of course, now she has developed a third head… BUT I think that was from the time I let her swim at the toxic waste facility we visited on that last preschool field trip. I think.
