MOM·RAD·ERY: M-O-M-R-A-D-E-R-Y

COM·RAD·ERY: the quality of affording easy familiarity and sociability

Now lose the "c" replace it with an "m." What does that spell?

MOM·RAD·ERY! Heyyyyyyyy!

You are in the line at Target after a strenuous shopping trip with your 2 year old. You bribed said child the whole way through the store by lettering her play with an obnoxious toy without any intent to purchase it. You're hoping to pull the old "bait and switch" at the last second at the checking out-swapping the annoying toy out for the old sippy cup. You pull the switch too early and a tantrum erupts. You stand your ground firm and refuse to give into the tactics of your two year old. As you attempt to will yourself invisible, you lock eyes with the woman in line behind you and you can tell by her empathetic smile and slight nod, that she too has pulled an unsuccessful bait and switch. She is giving you a nod of approval for being a rock star. You feel empowered, slightly less embarrassed, and even tougher. Those are the moments I love, het ones where you feel in the company of your fellow "momrades." Instead of rolled of eyes, glares, loud sighs, and judgmental looks, you get a shout out-whether through a look, an applause, or someone actually shouts out. You get it. You feel it. You love it.

I was at Old Navy one day. I was childless-amazingly-standing in the checkout line. 2 people in front of me, at the checkout counter stood a mother completing a purchase. Behind her, stood a little girl approximately 3-4 years old screaming. Now there is a scream that as a fellow mom, you recognize immediately as a tantrum scream. A tantrum scream sounds completely different from a legitimate fear or injury scream. A tantrum scream is loud, annoying, ridiculous, and takes serious concentration and control on the part of the mom, not to lose it!

Checkout mom kept her cool. She glanced back at the little girl and whispered something that I strained to hear, I think it was, "you need to CALM down." Her child's reply-extreme head shaking accompanied by additional screaming with some stomps thrown in for emphasis. I admit it. I was staring right at the "situation" you are supposed to look away from. I wasn't staring because I was judging (sometimes I do stare at people because I am judging); I was in awe at how calm and cool checkout mom played it. After what seemed like an eternity for checkout mom I am sure, she made her grand exit. She reached for her daughter's hand; the child dramatically refused the non-negotiable gesture. Check out mom STILL kept her cool. She hoisted the hysterical child over her shoulder, calm and collected, and marched out of the store.

At that point applause should have erupted. The sales clerks should have ushered checkout mom back into the store and presented her with a 50% coupon for being the bomb. I wanted to run out of the store and tell her, "I know you’re dealing with some major drama, but can I just say, you were AMAZING in there! You rocked that whole tantrum situation. Way to stand your ground and not lose it. Way to rock at this whole mom thing." My hypothetical pep talk would have gone something like that, had I sprinted out of line. I am slightly embarrassed to say, I did not want to lose my place in line, so I just sent her a "shout out" in my head.

Every mom experiences embarrassing moments in public with children. If you haven't experienced one yet, one is coming. And when you do experience one, remember that your fellow "momrades" paved the way. Other moms painfully stood in that checkout line or store aisle, or on the playground, or sat in that restaurant booth with a child behaving badly. Let that be an encouragement to you. And when you see your fellow "momrades" out on the battlefield looking tired and weary, stop and salute your fellow woman or at least give her a quick smile, a slight head nod and look that says, "You are a rock star!"

Mamadrama I: Adventures in Diapering

Our First "Mamadrama" comes from Kelsi. She has two sweet little girls and amazing photogskills. Check out her website!

Be warned, this blog post is rated PG and is not for the faint of heart or those considering having a child; it may sway your decision...

So Maddi, (who at the time of this incident was 24 months) is allergic to everything under the sun. Unfortunately, I realized after months and months of diaper rashes, that she was allergic to disposable diapers, so we reverted to old-school cloth diapers. That's not even the scary part. (and it's really not as scary as you might suspect - I love using cloth!!!). ...Well, Tuesday, I got her out of bed and after changing a sopping wet diaper and stripping her down, I realized that all of her cloth diapers were downstairs, folded neatly on top of the washing machine. So, I took her downstairs in her birthday suit, planning to diaper on the couch. We make our way downstairs - sleepy mom and naked little girl - and low and behold, there are the diapers, but I left the little poop papers upstairs. (let me explain the necessity of poop papers; this is where it starts to get PG... Poop Papers, aka Kushies Flushable Inserts, are little soft paper inserts that look like toilet paper. You lay them in the cloth diaper and then when Jr. does his business, you can flush it away in the toilet without having to scrub #2 out of the cloth. They are MANDATORY for squeamish moms.) Well, I get downstairs and realize that the poop papers are upstairs and there's no way I'm willing to risk going without. So, I think to myself, she's just had a sopping wet diaper, there's nothing left in her, and there's no harm in leaving her naked downstairs for the 8.4 seconds it will take me to go upstairs, grab the poop papers, and come down. (You can see where this is going....)

So, being a naive first time mom of an ornery toddler, I sprint up the stairs, grab the poop papers, and coming running downstairs. As I reach the bottom step, Maddi is standing at our back door, in all her glory, with her hands over her head, waving her little fingers. She looks at me and says in her deepest grovelling voice, trying to accentuate the severity of what she is about to say, "MOMMY! BIG POOPY!!" (I pause, not wanting to contemplate the full meaning of this statement...), so again she says: "BIIIIGGG POOPY". yup. In less than 10 seconds, Maddi had left her perch in front of the TV watching Elmo, had run to the front door, done her business, and had time to run to the back door, before I came down the stairs. it HAD to have been premeditated. and she was right. it was a BIIIIGGG POOPY. moral of the story: never leave your laundry downstairs and never, under any circumstances, believe that a 2 year old can 'hold it' for more than 5 seconds.