Excuse my moment of impending white hot rage: I would currently like to take the inventor of “Slime”—the DIY goop that kids everywhere under the age of 9 are whipping up in their parents’ kitchens—and slowly pull out his/her toenails while holding him/her over an open flame.

Before you get all “Oooohkay, crazy lady,” obviously, it’s a joke, k?

I would, however, like that inventor to experience just a smidge if the searing frustration and nausea I felt this morning as I lobbed off part of my 3-year-old’s hair with a pair of crafting shears in a restaurant bathroom, as a result of that sticky concoction.

A RESTAURANT BATHROOM, people.

I was so, SO #momfail today that it would actually be funny, if it weren’t so frustrating.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

What started as a nice breakfast with cousins and grandma at our local breakfast joint quickly deteriorated to STATUS: NUCLEAR when my older niece introduced my 3-year-old daughter to Slime. One minute they were playing happily at the other end of the table while we talked houses and real estate and other assorted Adult Things at the other end. And the next minute—actually, the next second—I looked over and my daughter’s sweet cheek was encased in a thick smearing of yellow Slime. Slime that slowly migrated from her cheek into her gorgeous golden hair.

I can’t say for certain what happened next because all I know is that she freaked, I saw about 20 restaurant patrons staring wide-eyed at us, and then I somehow ended up in the bathroom, slowly peeling off Slime from her skin as she cried, perched on a dirty bathroom sink. I hugged; she wanted nothing to do with it. I explained; she couldn’t hear a thing because, well, you know, the glue stuck in her hair. And there were swear words, from me, of course. A nice buffet-style sampling of all the biggies.

This is where I want to say I regret my actions–or more accurately, my words–but I mean, guys? Let’s be honest. It feels good to swear sometimes. And anyway, there are no other words at least that I can think of that could douse the flames of the sheer anger I was experiencing other than those that begin with “F.”

And then what happened next went something like this:

More tears.

Water–lots of water, as I tried to coax that death glue out of my child’s hair.

Many hugs and kisses to my poor little girl.

More tears.

One (okay, maybe two) more swear words.

The searching out of scissors.

The deep breath.

And then the slow cut. The sssssssssnip, otherwise known as the lobbing off of about 5 inches of a section of my little girl’s golden locks.

In my already difficult moment of impromptu hair chopping, de-sliming, frustration and general malaise, She walked past us and chimed in.

The woman walked out of a bathroom stall and had clearly heard me very animatedly explaining to my mom what had happened. And while I thought she was going to offer sympathy as I held my wailing daughter in my arms, she instead chose to teach me a lesson.

“She’s probably picking up on your anxiety, I’m just saying,” she casually tossed off as she walked out. “Sorry, I hope I don’t offend you by saying that.”

Then the walkaway, as I stood there, stunned, and a little stung.

Now it was official: I was a crappy, swearing mom who cuts her daughter’s hair in a public bathroom, while also getting mom-shamed for doing so.

#winning

But now that I have a little distance from the situation, I realize that technically, what that woman said was right. I was wrong for losing my cool in front of my kid like that, even if my anger wasn’t directed at her, but the situation. I walked away from that (albeit very judgmental and presumptive on her part) encounter filled with no small amount of regret for the language I chose to express myself.

So next time I’ll use a moment like that to teach my daughter a lesson in composure, of calming yourself before you react.

But today wasn’t the day for that lesson.

What can I say? Some days you nail parenting, other days you (F) bomb.

 


 

What’s your craziest parenting story? Am I the only one who’s cut her kid’s hair in a public bathroom? (Please say no. HA.) Chime in below in Comments! You know I love hearing from you!

 

 

P.S. The Shark Incident 2017. Never forget. And, to cleanse our collective palate from all these crazy stories, let’s reflect on some sweet moments, shall we?

Sonni Abatta is an Orlando lifestyle and mom blogger and mother to three. Please never send Slime recipes her way. Do, however, reach out if you have any questions or comments or want to work together! Here’s how.