Lucy Reflects

Whitney and I and the toddlers recently headed to a local coffee shop that features a kid’s corner. We began unpacking our kids from our cars.

Whitney takes a bit longer as she has all of Camden Yards to organize, and I was trying, as usual, to fix Bea’s hair so it didn’t look like Donald Trump’s ‘do. (No matter what, it always does though.)

We got the toddlers ready to go, the twins potty training at the time, and Bea with a ridiculous comb- over with the sass to match, when we noticed two moms and their kids who just barely beat us to the front door.

“They are going to get to the toddler space before us,” Whitney said with defeat in here voice.

We were looking forward to some coffee, snacks and chatting while our kids played. But we knew our kids at that moment in time. And we were hesitant to set them free in a social setting.

“Do you think those moms are like us?” Whitney asked as her twins were holding bottles of apple juice yelling, “It’s my beer! It’s my beer!”

I glanced at the other parents. And lied straight to Whitney’s face. “Yeah, sure. Maybe.”

We ordered our snacks and coffee. We set our offspring free to the table that was already inhabited. We hoped for the best.

Here’s the thing about Little Miss DJT hair. She gets this look on her face. One of which she is either full of love and excitement or about to strangle your neck with her bare hands. It’s the same facial expression either way, so I often try to let it play out and hope for the best. Though I have found myself lunging at her when I thought what was going to be a hug turned into her trying to put someone in a choke hold.

The twins, who Whitney was watching so intently hoping they didn’t pee their pants, were an audience to Bea, as they know all too well how she can occasionally act like a WWE wrestler.

Bea stole crayons from the other kids just to rip the label off and break them. She took their puzzle pieces, she dominated their space. She was getting dirty looks from the other parents.

“You’re making thumbs-down choices,” I said to Bea, trying out a new parenting method Phil picked up from a colleague (thumbs-up and thumbs-down approach to behavior). You think she cared about my new parenting approach? Nah, she didn’t. She looked at me like she was taking the middle-finger- up approach.

Then the boys simultaneously peed their pants. They have that cool twin thing where they can sense each other.

Just as this unfolds, the parents and their kids begin rehearsing the 50 states in alphabetical order, all four of them, all in unison. Bea takes advantage of this moment to steal more of their shit and the rest of us, wet pants and all, look in amazement.

“NOPE!” Whitney declares in response to her own question about the parents being like us.

And just like that, we break out in hysterics.

“You know, I know I’m not an extraordinary parent. We have a lot to work on, but I’m OK with that,” I say with tears in my eyes from laughing so hard.

As a mother, I know we are always comparing ourselves to each other. It’s difficult not to. Sometimes my kids are the most well-behaved, sometime they definitely are not. I’m trying my best to make them happy, healthy, loving, compassionate individuals. They might not get it right now, but they will. And as soon as they do, we’ll learn the 50 states in alphabetical order. Just as soon as I learn them myself.