Dear Mom at Target...

2:23 PM

Dear Mom at Target,


You were there with your own daughter, a teenager, looking at baby furniture.
You saw me coming. You smiled.  
I stopped in front of the potty training supplies, checking out a new princess potty for my eager 19 mo old. 
Both of my girls were hungry so I pulled out a snack, peanut butter crackers, which the toddler spit out into my hand and grabbed a granola bar instead. You smiled. Still walking around and around, with your own daughter in the same aisle.   I bent down to look at the princess potty, again, was it on sale?  And then the toddler spit her granola bar out, this time, her clothes catching the mess. I stood, and laughed while shaking my head, "No, no, Jordin!  Don't spit your food out."
"Ew!"  Cameryn said, 'That's gross Jordin!"
I didn't have a napkin, of course, so I grabbed the last baby wipe I had to gather the food that she spit out. 

You spoke. 

"Your girls are so pretty."

"Thank you," I replied, "they keep my on my toes!"

"You should pray for them."

I didn't respond. I smiled instead. 

"Have you read the book by... It has a daily scripture that you can pray over your kids.  You should really read it. It will help you to be a better parent. And there's another book by... that may help you too. And your kids will benefit from your prayers."
 "I have three children," you said, "I pray for them everyday and they're wonderful kids. Look into those books. With girls, you need too."

How dare you. 
How dare you judge me with a sideways glance in the middle of the target potty training aisle. 
How dare you assume that I don't pray for my kids. 
How dare you generalize all girls into one category of "Need Prayer."  
How dare you assume that I am not adequate enough. 

Me, in jeans and converse, you, in your designer jeans and flawless makeup. 
I may not be good enough for you. 
I don't have to be. 
I don't have to measure my worth based on your expectations. 
I am good enough for my kids. 
I am good enough for Him.
Take your books. 
Take your judgmental sideways glance and books about scripture and pray for your kids, because it works for you. 

Because, Mom at target in your designer jeans and flawless makeup, we need to stick together. We need to lean on one another and lift each other up. Tell each other that the days of kids spitting their food out in the middle of a store is temporary, and then hand me a napkin.  That's what moms should do. 

Because, Mom at target in your designer jeans and flawless makeup, I have two kids and most nights I am the only parent at home. Three weekends a month I parent alone. I work full time. I never pee alone. I don't sleep through the night. I have a treadmill that hasn't been used in four months.  I have to take time off of work just to get a haircut.  There are months when I struggle to pay my bills.  There are weeks when I have tunnel vision and look forward to the day when my husband is home so that I can have another pair of hands to help. There are days when I wonder if anyone will know that I ate my kids breakfast that she left on the table, for lunch.  

I don't have time to read a book.

But, you don't know that about me.  You didn't ask. Instead, you offered advice. 

Next time, just offer me a napkin.  
Smile. 
Walk away. 
I'll say the thank you and think that when my kids are grown that I would want a friend like you. 

And that simple act would teach my girls so much more about being a good friend, about being a mom, about being a good woman, than letting me know that I should pray for my kids, just because they're girls. 

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