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Last week I had a less than stellar “mom moment.”  I know you’ve had them too, the moments when you are stressed for a host of unrelated reasons, and then one of your kids does something, (which in hindsight really isn’t a big deal at all), but you blow a gasket, and freak out like a crazy person who has completely unhinged.

If this has never happened to you, then you probably should just stop right here, because you are way more of an evolved human being than I will ever be.

However, if you are like the 1,473, 692 other moms I know, you are nodding your head thinking “been there, done that.”

So here’s my story in a nutshell:  

The hubby was on a business trip in San Fran, I was working under a deadline, the kids were in and out of the house like a revolving door, our toilet broke, I was on day 4 of battling a wicked cough and laryngitis, oh and on top of that, I got my period.

Ok, now that you have a crystal clear image of my state of mind, I’ll get to the freak out. 

It was after dinner and I walked upstairs to take a shower after a long day, and as I entered my bathroom I noticed there were no towels. 


This may not sound like a big deal to you, but I have repeatedly discussed with my kids that they don’t need to use multiple towels each time they shower, but for one of my kids, this concept has yet to sink in.

Until tonight.

I walked into her bathroom, only to find at least 8 towels piled up behind her bathroom door, and I snapped.

The next 15 minutes weren’t pretty, I’m not going to lie.  There was a lot of screaming (by me), a fair amount of fear and silence (from her), and a few questions from the other one “is this really about towels?”

You see, it’s rarely about the towels.

When I finally calmed down and apologized for freaking the heck out, I explained that my explosion was about 10% towels, and 90% RESPECT.

Years ago I was giving a seminar, and a woman stood up and said how tired she was feeling like the maid and cleaning up after her husband and kids.

I don’t blame her.  I would be annoyed too if I was constantly picking up after someone, because it’s not about the toys, the socks on the floor, or the dishes in the sink.

It’s about RESPECT.

Respect for someone’s TIME, and Respect for your belongings. I posed the question, “Why was this woman’s time any less valuable than her husband or kids?”  

So my freak out, albeit, an overreaction to say the least, wasn’t about the towels, it was about RESPECT for my time and our stuff.

So the next time you are at the end of your rope, or worse, about to randomly leave stuff around the house for others to pick up, I hope you remember my story–because it’s not about the towels.