I’m hanging up my judgey pants and reserving them only for special occasions {like Girl’s Night Out!}. I used to wear them proudly. That was until tonight.

Tonight I was that mom with that kid. I have never been so embarrassed by my own child. I can do plenty enough to embarrass myself!

It’s about 112 outside {totally not joking about that one} and I didn’t feel like cooking {like I ever do!}. We decided to go out for dinner to E’s favorite restaurant, the Pepper Restaurant. He was doing great for most of the meal but then he started playing the “I have to go to the bathroom” game. Since he is newly potty trained, I don’t like to risk not believing him so we went to the potty and then went again and again some more. After the fourth trip to the bathroom, I was done.

Thankfully, we were done eating at that point. The hubster went to the car to get it cooled off while I paid the bill. Huge mistake: He left E with me.

Then it happened.
The mother of all temper tantrums.
In what felt like hours for the waitress to bring me my card back, I could feel the stares. Then the people behind me asked to be moved. I just wanted to get the hell out of there.
While we were leaving, I looked around for sympathetic moms. Instead, I got death stares. You know the ones. The “Why the hell can’t you control your child”. The “Would you just leave so I can eat my fajita in peace.” The ones I, myself, would give when there was child acting like a monster.
Never again.
Never again will I give another mom {or dad} that look.
Instead, they will get a smile and a nod that says “I’ve been there. It’s ok.”.
Which is exactly what I needed in that moment.


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