This past weekend, Kira had a meltdown from He-double hockey sticks.
It was simply fantastic. And mortifying in every.possible.way.
Long story short, she had a huge fit in front of a whole bunch of people (mainly mothers of three year olds, and her tantrum was so spectacular that they all likely scheduled their husbands vasectomies the next day).
I didn't handle it well. I was woefully unprepared mentally for the sheer capacity of crap she had at the ready for tossing my direction, and it was terrible.
In hindsight, I should have walked her out the front door and around the block until we both calmed down. Instead I tried to deal with her there in a back bedroom. It was loud and awful and I swear I never want to see those women again, because I will turn a thousand shades of red if I ever did.
After we left, she continued her tirade for most of the next two hours. We had to run errands, so there was little we could do but deal with her, which involved me, a 2004 copy of National Geographic detailing what would happen if a hurricane were to ever devastate New Orleans (Wow, were they spot on), and sitting in our van with the A/C running so as not to subject other poor unfortunate souls who had the unfortunate idea to go out into the same public space as we did.
By the time we got to the furniture store to pick up Shawn's new book case, she had managed to mostly pull herself together. And they were having fun checking out the fountain outside and just chill. So I grabbed my camera.
We survived our day. And I still have two children, and I even like both of them again. ;)
Why am I sharing? Because I feel more normal, less like a loser of a mother when I read other people's stories about how they have less than stellar mommy moments.
It's nice to know we are all in this together. That none of us has a manual. That some days we get it wrong, and that it's all going to be ok. Tomorrow. ;)