In a world full of uncertainty, all moms rely on the consistency of losing their shit occasionally.
It is comforting, the losing of the shit. It is a familiar feeling, like a hug, that reminds us we are alive.
In a recent plot-twist in one mom’s life, Amanda* (*name has not been changed … that’s her real name because she DGAF) was teetering toward the familiar feeling of losing her ever-loving mind. She was at her local Target with her strong-willed toddler, who was precariously nearing meltdown status and long overdue for nap-time.
She hurriedly pushed the cart toward the cleaning supplies, which in some sick, twisted scheme is located directly past the toy aisles. Try as she might, she pushed that carriage so fast she was CERTAIN her child – in her naptime haze – wouldn’t notice all of the colorful, loud, downright obnoxious temptations.
Alas, she did … and then it happened.
“Mommyyyy. I want that light-up super loud toy that you will later rip the batteries from,” she said.
Amanda was panicking. She knew a hard “no” would send this toddler careening off the side of the proverbial meltdown cliff, so she instead said quietly; “We will take a look after Mommy gets what she needs…”
This was an unacceptable answer for the spawn who, now yelling that Amanda was the worst mom in the world, was full red-faced, crocodile-tear melting down.
Ah. Here it comes. The hug. The comforting, familiar, losing of the shit.
“I am NOT going to tell you again,” Amanda said through pursed lips that really showed her anti-aging creams could use a restock.
“Ok, Mommy. I’m sorry,” said spawn.
What?! What is this shit?! No rebuttal? Meltdown averted? What in the actual hell is going on?
This was a new feeling. This was a feeling of uncertainty. What now? This child just goes on behaving for the rest of the day?
That’s exactly what happened.
Today in a local Target, one mom said, “I am NOT telling you again,” and she actually fucking didn’t.
The two went home, and spawn went down for a nap without a fight. Now feeling as though she had stepped into an alternate universe somewhere between the Meyers Soap and the LOL Dolls, Amanda sat in silence. “This is too good to be true,” she whispered to herself as she drank her coffee that was still warm.
Pushing the limits of the alternate universe, she walked to her bedroom to see if the wet towel her husband used was still on the floor where he left it as he walked out the door, kid-less and dressed to impress this morning.
Ahh. There it is. The hug. The familiar, comforting feeling of losing her shit.
About the Author
Amanda Marcotte is a Massachusetts-based motherhood blogger, navigating co-parenting, co-sleeping, and co-meltdowns with her toddler, one hug and tantrum at a time. IG: instagram.com/theamanda.marcotte Blog: thismomismediocre.com