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An Open Letter to the Mom I Envied at CVS
How being the Worst Girl at Yoga has helped me feel better about my most embarrassing moments.
This piece originally appeared in The Pomegranate.
Dear Other Mom in the Minute Clinic Waiting Area,
First of all, thanks for that wet wipe you gave me when I sheepishly asked if you had anything I could use to dab squirted-out applesauce from my son’s face and clothes. I owe you one. No, actually I don’t anymore. The debt has been repaid, though you may not realize it.
Do you even remember meeting me? It was early summer 2022. We each clutched a toddler: yours cherubic and placid, mine devious and besmirched already with apple-carrot-mango puree. As your son sat calmly in your lap, turning pages in the interactive board book you’d pulled from your well-stocked diaper bag, mine was pushing a Jurassic Park jeep around on the dubiously clean (okay, let’s be real: definitely NOT clean) pharmacy floor. I had a snack in my purse, a water cup in hand, and no diaper bag on my hip. I’d left it in the car. Surely I wouldn’t need it for a quick in-and-out.
You, meanwhile, had juggled a purse, diaper bag, drinks, umbrella, and toddler into the waiting area with aplomb. When I realized I had no wipe for my little boy’s face, you graciously proffered one like the Mary Poppins of the Minute Clinic, waving off my thanks with a practiced and deft hand.
As I was struggling to keep my toddler from licking the underside of the grimly sticky plastic seat, your child was snuggled in total serenity. As you read aloud in a mellifluous voice clearly accustomed to the task of enriching a malleable mind, my child began flailing, wailing, and doing his best impression of the Wicked Witch of the West– that is, melting down.
For the tiniest instant, your gaze flickered over and your eyes met mine. And, oh, Revered Mother of the Minute Clinic, I saw in your cool glance the barest trace of Judgment.
And you know what? I get it. Your kid was behaving. Mine was not. You won that contest neither of us were officially playing and no mother wants to admit.
