It isn't an air tight container

I was displaying all the classic signs. My hair had a subtle frizzy look that only an electric shock or a child plowing through the terrible twos can produce. My eyes were red and puffy from a recent cry. I was pale as a ghost and not making eye contact with any of the other parents. It had obviously been an extremely rough day. But The Kraken had swim lessons, and I am a momma not a quitter. So I picked myself up from our horrible day, dusted off and didn’t even bother covering up the bags under my eyes before leaving the house.

Ladies, ladies, ladies, will we ever learn to be supportive of other mothers around us or will we always be critical meanie heads? Can you cut a mom a break now and then, especially one in the fragile state I was in? Can you just take a step back and realize that just because you aren’t excited about certain activities (like jumping on the bed or eating fair food or smiling) doesn’t mean I am a bad parent for disagreeing. Now if you see me allowing my children to wrap plastic bags around their heads by all means, step in. If there is an empty refrigerator that I feel my children are safe to play in, please kindly remind me the oxygen is limited and the door difficult to open from within. If however you witness our weekly rec center ritual, just back off.

After swim lessons were over, I took my son to the locker room to change where he promptly clambered into a locker and asked me to shut the door. And I did. I let the kids hang out in the lockers while they dry off and I get their clothing out of the bag. I’ve never really thought much about it. They enjoy being in their “caves”, and I enjoy thirty seconds of peace to get organized. No sooner had I closed the door than a mother behind me turned to her daughter and shouted, “Don’t even ask me to do that. So dangerous. You will run out of air and you will die. So dangerous.” I did what I do best and avoided a confrontation by pretending not to hear her. I told The Kraken to come out so I could dress him. He popped out, clearly oxygen deprived and asked, “May I go in locker again after I dressed?”

To which I replied, with perhaps a tad too much gusto, “Absolutely!”