Moms who shoot daggers; shame on you.
Last week when I picked BooBoo up from preschool he was playing in the big yard, undoubtedly having the time of his young life. The moment he spotted me walking toward him, the melodrama began.
He didn’t want to go home and seemed hell-bent on making sure the entire western hemisphere knew it. Never mind the fact that he’d been there 8 hours, my presence reminded him of all that was wrong in his world at that moment: leaving the big yard, leaving his best buddy, the commute home – all of it. The hysteria was of biblical proportions and all I kept thinking was Dude, I missed you too.
His teacher and I sprang into action, trying desperately to diffuse the situation. Fellow parents offered knowing glances of camaraderie; realizing we were failing miserably in our mission. I felt hot, frazzled, and failed. As BooBoo and I walked out of the gate, a fellow mom walked in.
She took one look at my possessed son, one look at me and with a wide-eyed eye roll that screamed, “Ugh! What is wrong with that kid?” she shot me a dagger of undeniable judgment.
It was so on.
Between a wailing BooBoo and wood chips in my heels, I wasn’t in the mood. Or maybe I was the mood because I stopped right in front her, looked her dead in the eye, and in my most sarcastic tone I said, “Yeah right, like you don’t know what this feels like” before adding a giggle just for good measure. Sure, the giggle came off sounding giddy but I knew the maniacal attempt I was going for.
In that moment I felt I had taken a jab at the judgmental moms of the world for all of momkind – and I liked it.
So to moms who shoot daggers, save those icy glares for playground bullies or single drivers in the carpool lane; will ya? We need each other way too much for this kind of crapsense.
Been shot with a mom dagger? Spill the deets!
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