I Was That Mom Who Let Her Toddler Go to the Park Without Underwear
The Weekend. A wonderful time of adventure and fun for most families of young children, but not so on this particular Saturday. The familiar yet, grizzly scene unfolding in front of me
was nothing I hadn’t seen before. Too much time in the house had my daughters trying to kill each other, and I was perilously close to loosing my sanity. When it starts to look like a scene out of Lord of The Flies, mother must intervene; it was time to get eff out of the house.
To the park! It was a crappy day for the park — cold and windy, definitely not mini-skirt weather — but they didn’t care; my will to live was precarious at this point, so I didn’t mind that they might freeze half to death. It was imperative that we leave the house immediately, so we began the process that all parents fear and loathe …
Getting Ready To Go.
This small sentence is so loaded with BS, I can’t even convey the horrors. There are a number of battles that one will encounter as they navigate this particular endeavor. You have the hair-brushing battle, the teeth brushing battle, the sunscreen battle, the food-packing battle, the motherfucking sock battle, the shoe battle, the buckling-in battle … I could go on for days, but these are the big b–ches of the group.