Why We Spent the Morning Reading Quietly at Home

We played hookey from storytime today. Oh, the guilt. But our last library visit for storytime ended in sibling warfare, serious mommy embarrassment, and some substantial kid grief over my confiscating the identical blue balloons over which they were fighting. I had to drag my children kicking and screaming (and I do mean that literally) into the elevator and through the normally quiet library lobby. If not for the kind look of sympathy from the first-floor librarian, I might well have been frustrated and humiliated enough to advertise both of my offspring on ebay that very afternoon.

So it was official: I became one of THOSE mothers. You know, the ones whose parenting skills I used to question silently in my childless days of yore.

This morning when my son asked if we were going to storytime, I said yes, but then I proceeded to remind him of the proper way to behave, and how he lost his balloon last time, and how if he ever acted that way again at the library I might never ever ever ever take him back, and did he think he could stay quiet and obey me. At which point he said, "I don't think I want to go."

And yeah, I felt some guilt that my warning was dire enough that I might have made him afraid to try again, but on the other hand, I was relieved that I had an excuse to stay home. Because really, it is hellish. I'll take them again next week. I'll be a really good parent then. Somehow I'll manage not to be one of THOSE mothers.