Seriously, who leaves a place called “Bunnyland” super pissed off, I wondered to myself on Monday as we headed back to the car.

As we headed into week two of spring break (umm….I am not on board with breaks from school, FYI), me and the girls packed into the car for another trip to a farm…on yet another cold and almost rainy spring day (umm…where the f is spring this year?). This time we were headed to “Bunnyland” – hog heaven for three year olds…..open fields with bunnies, spring chicks, lambs, moonbounces, big slides, an easter egg hunt, hay rides. Seriously – what could be stressful about that trip?

And this time I loaded DD2 into the Bjorn, instead of the stroller, figuring though my back would be crying “Mercy”, it still would be easier than the stroller because DD1 wouldn’t need a ride on this trip. I hadn’t considered how difficult it is to get shoes back on a wriggly squirmy three year old after a trip in the Moonbounce, with a 15 pound baby strapped to my chest, when making this executive decision.

I also never considered lazy as hell mothers and obnoxious pre-teens when venturing out to Bunnyland.

And so began my journey to the point of rage in this otherwise innocent, spring-time outing. So let’s get to it. Will I become one of these worthless parents, I wondered, after more time at home?

Why do parents bring their children to public places to then not pay attention to them? Why was I helping some 2-year old down the slide while her mom talked on her cell phone, not paying attention? I could have swiped the kid. Get off your f’ing phone, I wanted to shout to her.  I’ve got my own kids to pay attention to.

And then there was the tricycles. Umm…get your f’ing kid off the tricycle when there is a line of other toddlers waiting patiently (which in itself is shocking) and your kid has ridden around and around and around for 15 minutes. Saying outloud each time he passes “ok johnny, this is your last time, we need to share” – doesn’t actually get him off the bike. And guess what, we all know it’s easier to let them keep riding because then you stand there and gossip with your friend instead of dealing with the inevitable tantrum – but I don’t give a shit. Get your kid off the tricycle. We eventually had to abandon the tricycles without riding as I said very loudly “It’s nice that you waited in line for SO LONG while the other kids didn’t SHARE” as I glared at the lazy as hell moms and continued to the fateful egg hunt. Next time, I’ll handle it much less passive aggressively, trust me.

Ahh…the egg hunt…where I ripped into some aggressive 12 year old pre-teen who pummeled my kid to rip an egg out of her hands.

“DO NOT trample toddlers for eggs. Where are your manners. Go find another egg and leave the little kids alone.”

I shouted to her – in a fit of rage in bunnyland.

Why was I playing offense and defense in bunnyland? What the hell? What was sweet and innocent about this trip?

Fortunately, DD1 had a great time in Bunnyland and was pretty oblivious to all the other chaos happening around her. Meanwhile, I could feel my blood pressure rising. I swear, having two kids has made me even less judgmental of other parents because now I am barely faking it until I make it – but lazy parents who stand around and aren’t courteous to other kids and don’t even pay attention to their own brats really PISS me off. If I reach the point of so zoned out in mommyland that I become this way, well then, that’s the first sign that it’s time for me to go back to work.

Maybe I didn’t notice sooner because I’m just emerging from the fog that is the beginning months with a newborn (god love it when the clock strikes 16 plus weeks with a baby), maybe it’s that I’ve just been wrapped up in working and figuring out how to focus on two kids instead of  just one after a long day, maybe I’m starting to catch up on my sleep, or maybe it really has just happened, but something hit me like a ton of bricks last night.

DD1 is suddenly CIVILIZED.

Now – let’s not get carried away – of course she still cries and argues about dumb shit. But then again, so do I.

But I mean – as an example - all of a sudden I can put her coat on and none of the following scenarios happen:

1. Kicking, screaming, refusal to put her coat on

2. Insistence that daddy put her coat on, then no, mommy put the coat on, then no, not going to put the coat on (all the while throwing a fit)

3. Negotiation that she does not need to wear a coat but in fact, she just needs a sweater

4. Running in horror the other way, covering her face, as if her eyes are burning for the hideous sight of that ugliest coat on the face of the planet.

5. Or my favorite of all – all of the above scenarios happening one after the other resulting in me questioning my sanity, why I had one child let alone two, and do I really need to be going out to whatever the destiation may be – is it really worth the effort.

Suddenly, I can just tell her it’s time to put her coat on and sometimes, she even just does it herself.  All of a sudden, I don’t have to think ahead and quickly hide the other coats that – should they catch her eye – might spur on a huge fit or negotiation that she must wear – even if they aren’t weather appropriate.

This example of the coat can extend into anything else you can thing of, any banal part of your day that you might otherwise take for granted if you don’t have a 2 or 3 year old living in your house- none of these things are banal or unmentionable when you are 2, and in our case, for the first four months of 3 – every step of the way is an ordeal, a form of torture, warranting a fit or a negotiation.

But all of a sudden, it’s like she’s a bona fide member of civilization. Brush her teeth? Sure! That sounds like fun. Get dressed! You betcha – she even does most of it herself.

And perhaps my proudest moment in parenthood – pooping on the potty AT SCHOOL. Perhaps crapping oneself in front of peers really isn’t the way to become most popular? Could it be true? And what has my life’s work amounted to thus far if this is – truly and genuinely – my proudest moment in parenthood to date – underpants that haven’t been soiled.

It’s as if the devil’s spawn has been replaced with Helpful Hannah – and we are running a child labor camp and totally proud of it – load the dishwasher? Sure – DD1 will do it. Help make the coffee – she can’t come around fast enough. Need something to go in the trash? Hand it to DD1. Have a poopie diaper from baby that needs to be tossed – call on Helpful Hannah.

Suddenly, I”m thinking – I can really get on board with this age. Or am I so beat down and tired from the horror scene of the 2s and the beginning of the 3s that I think the tiniest thing warrants her to be declared the next Emily Post?

Who knows. Now, don’t get me wrong, I certainly don’t expect it to last. But it has been so long since we could do anything peacefully in the house that it is just so nice and shocking. Maybe all the hard work and the discipline and the time outs and the crying in secret on my end – has actually started to work?
Who the hell knows. But even just one day of peace and cooperation is like winning the parenthood lottery in my book.