My girlfriend and I took our toddlers to Kindermusik today,
which is hectic enough. Afterwards,
every Tuesday, we have been having lunch at Applebee’s, which can prove to be equally
challenging with two toddlers. I am
usually very ready to get Celie into her car seat and pray that she falls
asleep on the way home by the time we are done.
She seldom is allowed down in the restaurant by herself. Frankly, she is mostly never allowed down by
herself, even though she is very capable of walking. Today’s story is a great reminder as to why
that is the way it is and has to be.
We had our meal, I had taken Celie to be changed in the
bathroom, and my friend left for the car with her daughter saying she would see
us out there when we were done. We returned
to our table and I stood her down between my legs to put her coat on. (I do the traditional knee hold on her.) In gathering up her cup and diaper bag and my
own items of wear, she slipped from my hold and ran up the isle toward the
bathroom. I, in retrospect, delayed 5
seconds longer than I should have. It is
these 5 seconds as well as the 5 to 10 words from the cook that led to me
feeling like the absolute worst mother in existence for a brief amount of
time. Okay, it has officially ripped the
scab off of that permanent wound of utter failure that is always living inside
of every mother, even when dormant.
I wanted one more sip of my ice water with lemon. One more.
Is that too much to ask?
Actually, Missie, as a mother, yes it is. Because she then slipped from my hold, ran up
the isle, and hung a left at the bathrooms where I lost the sight of her head
because of the divider. I was for a
brief moment unaware of which direction she took. I was at full panic for a few seconds as I
rounded the corner of the divider. It
was either to the left past the registers or to the right into the
kitchen. Stupid me hung left, telling
the questioning server that I was looking for my kid with large deer in
headlight border panic breakdown eyes. I
then heard a cough I recognized as my daughter’s from the place I had hoped she
didn’t veer into---the kitchen.
There are two open doorways into the kitchen at Applebee’s. Here’s some foreshadowing: there isn’t even a
door. As I realized she had entered the
kitchen I started to back step to head into the first doorway, at that moment a
woman emerged from the left doorway with my child dangling from her arms,
visibly distraught at this point (my kid, not the woman).
I don’t remember her exact words, as their meaning and my
caring trailed off after it registered what her attitude and opinion was
of. The first words out of my mouth were
“I’m sorry…” The first words out of her
mouth were “Do you realize all of the hot things that are back there and blah
blah blah…” condescension. No, please
tell me what a kitchen is and what possible dangers lay in it, because we don’t
have one and I have absolutely no idea.
I replied, calmly, “I’m sorry, but do you realize how quick a toddler
is?” “Yes, actually, I have two...” more
blah blah, I’m a better mother than you, you 18-year-old fedora slut, attitude. (I jest, but most times you REALLY CAN judge
what people are meaning by the way they say things…the WAY you say something is
very important. I knew what she was feeling, that was for sure.)
Anyway, apparently she is either the best mother in the
world or her toddlers have no posterior limbs, because doesn’t every mother of
a toddler understand how they can be??
WHY ARE MOTHERS SO NASTY TO EACH OTHER!?!? Cut me some slack. YES, I realize I am greatly in the wrong for
delaying my wrangling efforts that 5 seconds for one more sip of ice cold lemon
water for my frazzled dehydrated tongue. I’m not being sarcastic, I realize
that was wrong because you don’t get the privilege of random sips of refreshing
drinks at will with motherhood, you just don’t, but it was only maybe 10 to 15
seconds that she was in the kitchen, and I would have had her out in like 3 to
5 had I taken the right turn and not hung a left toward the registers!! Why didn’t any of the other servers who could
stop to ask me what I needed, not stop her from heading in there, as they must
have seen her round the corner? It’s not
like I sent her back to make me a steak of something? Come ON! Apparently you are the best mother ever,
Applebee’s worker, and your toddlers are made of gold, stationary gold.
I assume a lot of it was that I may come across as looking
like I am 18 to 21 years old. I may look
like I’m completely green, but don’t let the fedora, feathers and nose ring
fool you. This lady was probably 5 to 10
years my senior and she had the attitude that I know absolutely nothing about
child care and apparently kitchen ware. Not
that age really matters in motherhood, I realize I am a new mother, and I
realize there is a lot I don’t know, but don’t talk down to me like a lot of
mothers do IN GENERAL to young in age mothers because you think I am very
young. JUDGEMENT! Tell me again what dangers lay in the
Applebee’s kitchen? If you’re going to be that way and act like things like this don’t happen in a place that
allows children, then please…PLEASE…put a door on your kitchen and don’t have
TWO very LARGE access points to it right beside the entrance to the
bathroom. Let’s face it, toddlers
eat. They’re going to be patronizing
your restaurant. They’re going to be
entering that bathroom. Things like this
happen and I like to think I was filled with the proper amount of motherly
dread and terror as I rounded that corner and didn’t see my daughter. PLEASE do not use your superior parenting
skills and advanced age and rank in the Applebee’s kitchen to purposely make
life more stressful for a fellow mom.
Why are moms so mean to each other?
Because we’re BITCHES! Because
motherhood is hard! Because motherhood
is TERRIFYING and you don’t know at any point in time that you are making the
right decision. Because you are always
on edge, waiting for someone to judge your way of parenting because deep down
you are WORRIED THAT YOU ARE WRONG!!
Deep down there is a place inside of you where you are worried that you
are a BAD MOTHER every second of your day!
Welcome to Motherhood.
At the end of this experience I was left feeling like a
shitty ass mother. I felt so horrible
for those 5 seconds, because when it comes down to it, I KNOW BETTER. You can’t hold on to a spirited toddler’s
hand enough to control them without breaking it; it’s like like trying to walk
a terrier on a leash of cooked spaghetti.
I know how fast Celie is and I know why I don’t let her down in
restaurants, but I find it hard to believe that no child has ever entered that kitchen
on a pass through. Hell, I’m pretty sure
my mother has walked into a kitchen trying to find the bathroom. SHIT HAPPENS!
I also find it hard to believe that lady has had a handle on her kids
every second of their existence. I
simply walked away when she started the whole “Yes, actually, I have two and...”
where she was then going to go into some other words of wisdom and advice and
correction. Well, lady, if that’s true,
then why be such a bitch? I understand
that you are probably stressed out and tired from work, and you may even be
generally concerned about the well being of my child, which was my primary
concern as I was trying to fetch her. Hey,
life is hard. But women are not going to
advance themselves any farther by being so snippy and judgmental with each
other. Thank you for representing the
part of my psyche that does completely agree with you and acknowledges that
this was entirely my fault as a mother, but as a mother, please…could you
develop some empathy? Haven’t you had
one of those days? When you have chased
for hours and just want a sip of lemon water?
Haven’t you had a few seconds when they just slipped away from your
control? I’m well aware of the dangers
of a kitchen, thank you very much. I
have worked in the food industry; I have a small version of one at home as
well. Nobody was more terrified or
concerned when my daughter entered that kitchen than I was. Thank you for making it even harder as a
mother to do the right thing. Thank you
for being that mother, “That Mother” that makes my girlfriend and I loathe and
detest play groups and mother functions where they gather. Thank you for judging me to be unfit in a
matter of seconds with the tone of your voice.
And congratulations, because you are, therefore, better than I am. You are “right”. Isn’t that the hopeful end
result of meanie mom logic?
From a fellow mother, would it have been too much for that
empathetic smile, and a word TO MY DAUGHTER about the dangers of the kitchen
and not me?? In an age appropriate way??
So as to help be the village and learn HER of the dangers? I would have even taken a “you should know
better” look from you if you had done that.
I forgot all about correcting her behavior for running away from me in
the first place because I was too busy calling you a bitch on my way out the
door! I was so worked up trying to find
her, then I got Dr. Toddler jumped when I found her, I was a mess the whole
drive home. “Stop yelling at me!” my
girlfriend says. I was obviously
heightened and complaining loudly, it was a miracle the girls fell asleep in
the back seat.
Really, Applebee’s? Here’s
a thought, put a swinging door on your kitchen if it’s like Louis III’s dungeon
back there! But, honestly, thank you for
the condescending direction, because I don’t know about you, Applebee’s cook
with two toddlers, but I am a reflective human being, and I will take this
experience and try to learn from it.
Maybe you should do the same.
There really is a chance that you were unaware the way you approached
things could have been different, and therein lays the problem with mothers
connecting. Instead of recognizing that
part that is similar inside of us all you chose to go the ol’ yes I have kids therefore
I know how to wrangle yours, do you even know what a kitchen is? route. Thank you for mirroring my motherly doubts
and further perpetuating the cycle of indifference and judgment among women. You worked me up into a tizzy. I’m going to go vomit and cry now.
Judging You,
Missie Sue
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