Moments That Make You Want To Crawl Under a Rock

I suppose the first step to recovery is admitting that you have a problem. Sometimes, I care too much of what I think people think or even worse, I judge myself based on what others are doing…

A couple weeks ago, the South Florida Guatemalan families gathered at a local Guatemalan restaurant. Alberto’s naps were all over the place that Sunday (he’s dropping his morning nap). He was cranky and irritable. This was not the combination you want when going to a restaurant to meet people for the first time. I almost canceled.

He fell asleep in the car. Just making things worse. I almost turned around. But I said, “No, we are going to do this. We are going to be fine“. I had taken along a small diaper bag with the essentials, diapers, wipes, a blanket, spoon, a Gerber’s fruit puree, and a change of clothes.

The restaurant was tiny and really takes you back to Guatemala. It was hot, and there was something reminiscent of Antigua; it was hot. We sat in the back of a tiny restaurant that was crowded. And a thought crossed my mind, “why are we meeting at a tiny restaurant with small children?” But I dismissed that thought. We were there to meet people and make friends.

And then IT happened… The other moms pulled out all their gadgets. They had seat covers (as you know, I just recently purchased mine after the stomach incident – perhaps caused because I didn’t have one in THIS restaurant). They had table toppers – one had a disposable one and the other had the suction cup plastic one. They had numerous tupperwares with cheerios, frozen peas, Gerber puffs and other things. (How long were we going to be there?). I felt naked. You know, like in those dreams?

To make matters more complicated, Alberto, my sleepy, cranky, irritable son was not in his usual pleasant disposition. And if that wasn’t enough, I was wearing a button down blouse that somehow in carrying Alberto managed to suffer wardrobe malfunction. There I was in this small, hot restaurant with a cranky little boy, feeling naked and then I realized my boobs were in someone’s face. Well, I had a bra on but it was more than that man needed to see. Where was the big rock to crawl under?

It did get a little worse, when I finally put Alberto in his stroller and we were both bouncing/dancing to the music and the man who had the pleasure of having my blouse open up in his face said he regretted he didn’t have any singles. I was a good sport. Bigger rock? Where are you?

I suppose we all go through these types of experiences at one point or another in our lives. But what affected me most, was not Alberto not being his usual wonderful self, was not the blouse incident, or the “singles” comment. What affected me most was that these other moms came prepared the way a good mom should and I should have known better. I was exposed, figuratively and then as my luck would have it, literally as well.

Not wanting to be caught with my pants down, or in my case, my blouse open, this Sunday, I was prepared. Check out the picture.

We have the sippy cup, plastic spoon, table topper, seat cover, bib, (Tupperware not seen but there). I also had in my diaper bag my insulated lunch box to keep all my food fresh. The diaper bag also contained the disposable diaper changers as well as 2 changes of clothing, diapers, diaper cream, a bottle, powdered toddler formula x 2 servings, a lunch serving of chicken and vegetables, and a snack of fresh fruits, (all in our nifty Tupperwares) sunscreen, Clorox wipes, handi-wipes, diaper wipes, a blanket, a couple toys, and paper towels. Did I also mention that I need to get an industrial-sized diaper bag with wheels? I definitely need to find a balance. This is just not practical.

Lessons learned: If you’ve done your best, then you’ve done your best. And being a good mom is not in the things you have in your diaper bag (although that does help) but in the heart in which you parent your child. Learn to be a gracious and forgiving with you. And when you go out in public with a small child, do not wear a button down blouse.