to the lady who judged me:

This post was originally written in March of 2015. Making Jameson about 18 months. (for those of you who can't do math and need it put into a measurement that makes sense, that means he's just over 78 weeks old. a prime time in his toddlerhood.)

To be fair, I am still the same type of parent now that I was then. 

original post:

I'm not a bad mother. That doesn't always mean I'm the best mother... just that I'm not the worst.



I was getting the car packed up to leave today, and as any mother knows... sometimes you have more things to carry than you have arms for. If my child is one of those things, then I have him walk with me to the car. He is able and willing, and if it saves me a few trips back and forth I am all for it!

As I was putting a few bags in the car, I noticed my son was wandering about 25 feet away from where I was standing. I wasn't worried about it. (I mean, let's be real. I survived losing him in Costco so 25 feet away in plain sight is fine by me.) Just then, I saw a stranger slow down their car. She stopped, pointed at my son and said something probably about my parenting skills, then gave me a disapproving look and shook her head. And then she drove away. The message she was sending was clear.

There are few times I have ever felt so judged. I wanted to go full-Hulk on her and rip her to shreds. Didn't your parents ever teach you it's rude to point?!
Don't look at me like that.
DON'T shake your head.
"GTFO!" (but really.)

So there I was, with my son still 25 feet away, and I thought, maybe I really need to evaluate my parenting style. If a total stranger thinks I'm a bad mother... what do my neighbors think?! What does my family think?! Oh. My son is now 40 feet away. I should probably go get him before an angry mob of strangers comes to point their fingers and shake their heads.

So I stuffed my son in the trunk and told him to sit tight while I re-evaluated my life.
..because that is the kind of disapproving look that lady gave me.

Listen lady. I'm not a bad mother.

I don't abuse my son in any way.
I don't neglect him.
I don't feed my him big bowls of sauerkraut! Every single morning! (it was driving me CRAZY! I said to my mom, I said... hey mom...)

That being said. I am far, FAR from perfect. And sometimes I don't even feel bad about it. I openly admit I am a culprit of bad parenting on a daily basis.

My son just might experience severe hearing loss by the time he is 5 due to the fact that I blast Taylor Swift any time we are driving in the car. Is that the best thing for my son? No. But I do it anyway. That doesn't make me a bad mother.

I have days where neither of us change out of our jammies until dinner time. Some say that's unacceptable. I say it's an all-day pajama party. Who doesn't love pajama parties?

I make him watch Lord of the Rings. It's rated PG-13. And unless something strange happened while he was napping, I'm quite certain he is not yet 13. But he's seen it. And he likes it. And that's okay by me.

I use every ounce of strength I have to pin all of his limbs to the ground when changing his diaper. He screams like a banshee. Torture? Uhh, yeah. For ME. You go change his diaper. I'd like to see you do it without using both of your arms and legs. Level 2 is getting his clothes back on before he escapes. (but sometimes I let him escape on purpose, because what is cuter than a baby running away with no pants on?)



addition:

so, reading this is a little bit hilarious because few things have changed.

I was telling my dad earlier today about the time Jameson (when he was around the same age as the original post) climbed into the large basket part of my grocery cart and started hucking cans of food at an old lady in the same isle as us.

Not that that makes me a bad parent at all... but it's sad and hilarious at the same time.

On a more related note, just a few months ago I lost my son in Target. LOST him. As in, I actually started panicking. I was literally running through every isle to try to find him. I won't tell you how long it took me, but eventually I found a swarm of ladies circling around something. Unless Target started a women's fight club in isle 17, my son is probably in the middle of that circle.

I reached the circle, completely out of breath and a woman looked at me. Completely disregarding the fact that I had obviously been running around the store and could barely breathe, she said, "Oh, THERE you are! I was about to go get security!!"

OKAY. I get it. I'm a terrible person. Now please, hand over my son so I can go cry in the bathroom while he drinks water from the toilet.

As soon as he spotted me, Jamey dashed away laughing. The lady who so lovingly judged me tried to run after him, but she was unaware that my son is 1/80 cheetah and can outrun every judgmental person on the planet. He fell, and as she reached to grab him, he turned and yelled,

"NO! STOP! You don't touch me!!" (waving a very angry finger at her)

I wanted to turn and yell, "Yeah! you hear that?! Don't touch my son or I'll be the one calling security, mean lady!" but instead I thanked her, picked up my son and left.

Parenting in public is so fun. You guys should all have kids and take them to the store.