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My friend sent me an email:

So, I am thinking that since you are always so busy, instead of us getting together, maybe you could just bring Walker over one day and let him and *baby hang out. *Baby would love to play with a friend his age!!

And at first, I was thinking, “EXCUSE me!!” But two seconds later I was leaning more towards, *sigh* “Okay, I get it.” Because I’ve basically been a big flake lately- no sugar. So, well, OKAY. I GET it. Let’s get together. (yeah, yeah, yeah).

-Please note: The author of this blog cannot be held accountable when soundtrack songs  burst forth from her fingertips. Thank you. MGMT.

Getting back to the story, we set a date to get our boys, AND OURSELVES, together. That day was today.

I’d had an especially overwhelming day at work today, where overwhelming really means cranky and where cranky means I almost wanted to cry. But in the ‘ it’s not you, it’s me’ sort of way. Come quitting time I was really wanting to relieve some stress and thought it might be a good idea to take the boys to the park to play before eating. Let me tell you one thing. It was hot.

You want to know another thing? I don’t do well with hot. Hot is not my friend. Hot can go to Hollywood and die. (Let’s get this straight. Hot is not my friend. Hollywood is my friend. Or, at least she plays my friend on Twitter. Whatev.) I look at my friend -the one from the park- and she looks at me.

“You know *friend* it’s 4:41. That’s almost 5.”

“The restaurant has air conditioning.”

“We were going to eat at 5 anyway and by the time we get there…”

“Let’s go.”

It went something like that and we packed up our boys and headed to eat. Something happened on the way there. I can’t say what it was because I really don’t know. I’m not sure if an evil spirit took hold of my son briefly or maybe there was some sort of whiny kid dust involved. Whatever it was, stepping foot in that restaurant set it off. BIG TIME. Like a bomb. And then I was THAT mom. The mom with the screaming flailing kid in the middle of a restaurant where other child-free people were trying to eat in peace. I was that mom who couldn’t decide between trying to find something to give him to just shut him up or to take him to the bathroom. So I did both. Neither one worked.

It was embarrassing. I could feel their eyes boring into me, burning holes in my backside. I could hear their whispers.

Can’t she control that kid.

What is she doing?

Why did she do that?

And no matter what I did or could have done it would have been the wrong thing. Because someone always knows what the right thing is when it isn’t their child.

But not just that. It’s also because, sometimes, no matter what you try NOTHING works. The kid is just being a brat. It happens. When it does, you feel like every hole being burned into by judging eyes is just adding to the leak in the dam. Slowly, your confidence drains out. Along with it, anything you know about parenting. Because everything you know about parenting? It’s wrong. Another hole, another leak and the dam might just break soon.

Does anyone have some plugs? A liner? Dirt? SOMETHING??