The internet, from Facebook to Instagram, is full of scathing reports of parents behaving badly in public. From shouting at their kids in Walmart to spanking them in the bathroom stall at Disney world, we love to call out others for their mistakes. We can make them sound like monsters, terrible adults taking preying on the defenseless, unable to control their emotions and anger. CAN YOU BELIEVE IT, we shout into the series of tubes, SO SHOCKING.

Today, I am sure someone is gleefully reporting on the mother they saw hit her three year old at the zoo. AWFUL.

That mother was me. I smacked Evan, right out in the open for God and the Italian ice girl and the wrinkled, judging eyes of the elephants to see.  He staggered sideways, his eyes filling with tears as I picked him up and held him while casting furtive glaces around to see if anyone was calling Child Protective Services. No one went that far, but the looks I got made my scalp prickle.

The whole thing was an accident, but even if you suspected that you have already started judging me. I was explaining elephants to Caroline, crouched slightly to point out their ears and tusks and big feet at a level she could understand both physically and developmentally. Evan was tired of the elephants – “Mommy, don’t wanna see the elephants! Wanna see the tortoises, fighting tortoises Mommy, this way!” (To lighten the tone of this post, I’ll tell you the tortoises weren’t fighting but since that’s what Evan called the thing they were doing – and doing loudly – I didn’t correct him.) In his excitement, Evan grabbed my leg and yanked, twisting me off balance. As I tipped toward the pavement I flung my arms out involuntarily and one of them connected with the side of his body. It hurt me more than it hurt him, truly. He was surprised and shocked but not actually injured. I swallowed my quick flash of adrenaline and hugged him as tight as I could, murmuring apologies and looking for bruises.

But if you had also been looking at the elephant’s ears and tusk and big feet you would have turned when you heard the unmistakable sound of flesh hitting flesh followed by a crying child. You would have seen a mother looking guilty and ashamed and a little boy saying “I sorry Mommy! Please don’t hit me!” You would have judged and condemned. You might have tweeted or taken a picture of us as we walked away to put on Instagram. You might have shared what you had seen with your message board. I might have done the same, before I was on the other end.

We are reminded all the time not to judge other people’s choices. “You don’t know what they’re going through” we chant, “You don’t know their circumstances. Do what is right for your family.” But we make exceptions for the Really Bad Things. We know we are better than Those People and Those Choices and no matter what they say there is No Excuse. And sometimes that is true. I’m not saying you should doubt your instincts if you see a child being harmed or in danger. But I am saying things are not always what they look like, even when you see them with your own eyes, and maybe a private yet public social media shaming shouldn’t be your first reaction.

So, this happened about a zillion years ago in blog years but as I go through and resize and organize all my beach and vacation photos I figured throwing in a few more summertime fun events wouldn’t hurt.

Our town had a bunch of events a couple weekends ago, including a street fair and a visit from the Amistad tall ship. E had to work so I stuffed the kids in the stroller and hustled them down for free fun (spoken: lollipops and cupcakes).

Orange balloon, red lolly, worried about thieves

Oh no, Caroline has turned into a balloon!

The Amistad (not the real one) (or the one from the movie) (BUT my friend Sarah helped build it!)

Thinking deep, boat-like thoughts

More deep thoughts

Evan and a new friend checking out the ship

She’s the girliest tomboy ever

Dear Town of Norwich, I apologize for your June water bill

Casting the town’s new bell

Abraham Lincoln! Because, why not?

While we were visiting my parents in Northern Virginia, we had an opportunity to visit the Reston Zoo. I haven’t spent a lot of time in Fairfax County since I graduated high school a dozen years ago so I had no idea it was even there until I read about the zoo on my friend Emily’s blog back in May. Then I had the good fortune a winning an admission in her giveaway so we had no excuse not to go!

It was seriously cool. Two thumbs up. Here’s a zillion photos.

The petting zoo was full of gentle sheep and goats. They were awesome at getting the food out of the kids’ hands without biting at all.

There were a couple of school trips and a lots of moms with kids around Evan and Caroline’s age but the zoo never felt crowded (even though it was small enough to do without a stroller)

Medium sized ginger with a tiny baby goat

I WANT ONE

Pushy but gentle

You can buy bottles for $1.50 to feed the babies

YES OF COURSE YOU CAN HAVE YOUR OWN BABY LAMB

Curly sheep, I want to knit you

No I absolutely did NOT consider stuffing a tiny pig in my purse

 And that was just the official petting zoo barn. There were plenty of other animals to see outside.

Some sort of grouse or partridge with omg fluffy chicks

Adorable little foxy thing that Caroline was dying to cuddle

Tortoise

Parrot

Caroline REALLY like the monkeys. I suspect she thought they were little hairy babies.

Prairie Dog

Evan and MorMor. Don’t worry, that’s not a real lion.

Llama llama was very friendly to Mama

Man, I have seen WAY too many alligators in the past week

Tiny adorable deer who was in with the geese and ducks

Budgie enclosure – just like at the Mystic Aquarium except that the sticks only cost $1 and the birds were SUPER friendly.

Even Caroline could feed the birds. Although she also kept trying to pet them.

And then there was the wagon ride to see the bigger animals, including a camel, antelope, deer, zebras, buffalo, and wildebeest (I cannot hear the word wildebeest without thinking of The Lion King) . Evan was probably more excited about the tractor than about any of the animals, but it was REALLY neat.

We weren’t supposed to feed the zebras, but they didn’t come close anyways. I suspect they are not super friendly.

That’s my 3 year old feeling a BUFFALO. A buffalo! I pet him and his wool was just as soft as I imagined based on how expensive buffalo yarn is.

Caroline really liked the animals, as long as someone was holding her.

That’s a watusi. CRAZY huge horns.

I don’t even remember what this thing is called.

Evan feeding a giant beast. He was so brave!

I think this is going to be a regular stop when we visit my parent’s house in Virginia. The kids really enjoyed it and I can only imagine they’d like it MORE as they get older and can really appreciate what a rare experience it is.

(Someone commented on my previous post where I mentioned our plans to visit Reston Zoo to say they had been charged with animal cruelty. Obviously I don’t want to visit somewhere that is mistreating their animals so I looked up the charges online. It appears to be an isolated incident involving one person and one sick animal reported to the police by one source rather than an ongoing investigation into the zoo’s practices. While I was there I saw nothing but well cared for animals and helpful, polite staff. I’m not dismissing anyone’s concerns, I’m just letting you know I made an informed decision to visit despite that news story.)

Dear Suzanne,

Hey. Hi There. How are you? Your hair looks nice like that. And you’ve definitely lost weight so don’t get discouraged, but also don’t forget to eat dessert sometimes because you’re kind of awful when you don’t get dessert.

In case you’re already wondering what this is about, it’s not the letter version of repeating affirmations to yourself in the mirror every morning (because I know you never remember to do that – it makes you feel silly). This is a letter to remind you of how awesome your life is on the days when you can’t do anything besides throw some crackers at the kids and hide in the bathroom until your husband comes home.

Today, Evan woke you up by climbing into bed and giving you hugs. Then he played on the iPad while you dozed and checked email and put off starting the day as long as possible.

That right there – the first 20 minutes of your whole day – should be more than enough to make you realize how lucky you are. Your son is healthy. He slept in his own room last night. He is able to climb. He is able to hug you. You have a bed. You have a room that is a pleasant temperature. You have an iPad. You have an iPhone. Your daughter slept in her own room. She is healthy. She is always excited to see you, even if you make her wait while you get dressed. You do not have to rush out the door for work. You can wake up at 7 am, and at 7:15 decide today is a beach day or a zoo day or a baking day or a library day or a stay-at-home day. Billions – literally, BILLIONS – wish they had a life like that.

Every single day for you is like a weekend for most people. You can shop or get coffee or work out or lie around doing nothing. Your bank account has money in it you did not have to earn but you get to spend. THINK ABOUT THAT. Yes, you are working in a zillion different ways at all hours of the day and night and yes your work as a wife and mother is important but in this country, at this time, that work is worth zero actual dollars. Too bad Target doesn’t accept blood, sweat, tears or poop. You have plenty of those.

Your biggest problem this week is that you double-booked your plans for Tuesday – you promised one friend you would meet her at the Seaport and another that you would be her event photographer at a party for your kids and all your kids’ friends. Oh noes! Your life is SO HARD, but only if by hard you mean “really really freaking awesome.”

Parenting a child is a challenge, and some days it’s a really challenging challenge and some days it feels like a challenge that will never ever end but always remember: IT WILL. Be glad the bad days end but remember the good ones do too. Today will end, tomorrow will end, your children’s youth will end. It will end and you will wonder why you didn’t enjoy more of it.

So go ahead, have a bad day. Feel sorry for your plight as an over-worked, over-stressed, under-appreciated mom. Count the minutes until you can pour a glass of wine or collapse into bed. Everyone’s allowed to have bad days. But when you wake up tomorrow with a snuggly ginger playing Angry Birds and a day of nothing but fun ahead of you, stop feeling bad and start appreciating how great your life is.

Love,

Past Suzanne

p.s. Don’t forget to eat the strawberry freezer jam. You tend to forget stuff you put in the downstairs fridge. Speaking of which, it’s probably time to throw out the egg nog.

Things I Have Tried To Get My Three Year Old To Sleep Later:

Shortened naps

Dropping naps

Feeding him more before bed

Feeding him less before bed

Letting him stay up later

Putting him to bed earlier

Telling him he can’t get up until the sun is up (but the damn sun comes up at 5:30)

Blackout shades

Doing LOTS AND LOTS of walking, playing, and running all day so he can barely keep his eyes open by 5 pm

….and right now as I type this he is totally passed out on the couch. It’s 11:50am. I heard from a couple people on Twitter that melatonin supplements can help with wacky sleep schedules but Dr. Google is split about 50-50 on whether or not that’s a good idea (WebMD votes no, LiveStrong and MayoClinic vote yes with caution). I should talk to the pediatrician before trying it, but I feel like an idiot calling and saying “I’m not disciplined to go to bed before midnight so I’m REALLY TIRED when my kid wakes up at 5 so how about them pills?”

But like any parent will tell you, having a kid who isn’t getting enough sleep is way more than just being a tired parent. He’s grumpy and emotional and irritable and has trouble controlling his impulses and can’t make up his mind so he refuses thing he actually wants and then cries because he doesn’t have them.

I feel sort of like a jerk complaining at all since on the scale of sleep problems this is not actually that bad. Even on his WORST nights he only gets up once or twice to ask for a drink and goes right back to bed. It’s the cumulative effect of not getting enough sleep enough days in a row that’s driving me bonkers.

Here’s my idea: everyone say “IT’S JUST A PHASE”. Because, yeah, but it will make me feel better.