Go ahead. Judge Me. I Dare You.

Several months ago, I got into a mini-shouting match with a woman while I was walking with my two daughters. Okay, I'm not proud about the fact that I eventually gave the woman the finger, but here's what happened:

At the time it was still pretty cold in New York and my youngest was not a fan of hats. I kept two wool baby skull caps in our diaper bag and would sort of rotate them as we walked. Inevitably, she would let me put it on her for a few minutes only to toss it off or on to the ground just a bit later. 

This game of cat and mouse was getting old and I knew we only had two more blocks to go before the grocery store. So, I decided to give the hat -- and myself -- a rest. 

Enter evil old witch lady. Okay, that's being harsh. But, she was old. And female. I think.

She yelled across the crosswalk, "Put a hat on that baby. She's cold." 

Here's where I pause to say that nothing rattles me more than perfect strangers trying to tell me how to care for my own children. And then here's my tiny addendum: There are certainly many, many times when I am ridiculously appreciative of the random help of strangers. Doors get held open while I try and navigate two kids, a scooter, a stroller, bags and a shoe that is "falling off my foot right now mommyyyyyyy!" and I'm thankful. I'm thankful for the woman who gave me money so I could fill a parking meter when my youngest daughter was screaming and needed a nap and I couldn't find a convenient place to make change. I'm grateful that one day when I was too sick to leave home and my spouse was traveling, my daughter's teacher offered to pick her up for school. I'm grateful for people that let us cut in line at the bathroom when they see my kid doing the pee-pee dance. Point is: I am most of all grateful that it takes a village to raise a kid and most of the time, that village shows up.

So, what was it about this particular exchange? It was her tone that really irked me. And I was tired. And yeah, it was f***ing cold. And I had one kid who didn't want to wear her mittens ("They're itchy!") and another who had just flung her hat off a block earlier. 

So, I yelled back, "Mind your own business!"

She mumbled something and started to approach us.

"What's that lady saying?" My oldest daughter asked. 

"Who knows..." 

She got closer. And here's the part that I found hilarious. She was in fact wearing one of those giant fur Ushanka hats. The kind you'd see a Russian spy or trooper wear on TV. It was like she was saying, in her very dress and manner, "You suck as a mother. And I obviously am rocking this cold weather thing like a mo-fo!"

She got close to us, leaned over the stroller and said so both my kids could hear, "You should be ashamed of yourself."

I said, "You should be ashamed of yourself!" and kept walking.

And then, she screamed back at me, "Well you should be a better mother!"

Cue The Bird. And yeah, I might have said something else that I won't repeat here.

Later, the sane and well-rested part of me figured that she probably just thought she was being helpful and that I'd be eternally grateful for her quick ability to point out my shortcomings.

But, that's where she and anyone else who intentionally or unintentionally judges a mom or dad is wrong.

I have said it before and I will say it again. This parenting schtick is super duper hard. No matter how you come to it. 

And here's the other part: You never know what kind of day has preceded whatever moment you are witnessing between child and parent. 

I should take my own advice, I know. Whenever those stories go viral about parents leaving their kids in the car while they run errands or get gas, I totally judge. But really in the end, all I can say is, "Okay, well, it's not the way I would do it. But I don't need to condemn them for it."

And I can keep airing the dirty, dark secrets of how I raise my girls. Hey, last night they ate SpaghettiOs (which is indeed written like that and defined as "an American brand of canned spaghetti featuring circular pasta shapes in a cheese and tomato sauce and marketed to parents as 'less messy' than regular spaghetti," on Wikipedia.) and watched three episodes of SpongeBob SquarePants. While the combo of these things (heck, one of them by itself) makes me feel nauseas, they loved it!

I am not super strict about bedtimes or how early my kids potty train. I let my kids sleep in my bed when my husband is out of town and they watch a lot of TV when I'm working on a piece of writing. On the other hand, I'm psycho about putting on sun block, installing a car seat and probably a little to crazed about possible choking hazards. But I will never, ever tell you to put a sunhat on your kid because he might get a sunburn. Promise.

So, go ahead. Judge me. I dare you.

Why I Wish Tim Gunn Could Be My Own Personal Parenting Guru

I wish Tim Gunn could live with me.  Every time I feel like a complete mommy failure the fabulous Project Runway star could just appear, a stoic presence in some cute little pinstripe suit, all six foot two of him, and with his usual words of wisdom and a clean pocket square to dry my tears with. He would pick me back up, outfit my children in looks fit for Suri Cruise, and - voila! - we'd make it work together.

This idea recently came to me when a good friend, about to have her second child, asked me for my best advice for handling two kids together. I quickly recalled one day in particular when my youngest was still a newborn. One afternoon, my older daughter, who was still mastering potty training, ran into my bedroom, "Mommy, mommy, mommy! I can't...." and then she peed all over herself in front of me. I had a newborn baby stuck to one boob and couldn't do a darn thing about it. At the time, a dear friend of mine texted me, "At least you know urine is sterile," and somehow, that made me laugh and I was able to make it work. When I finished feeding one child, I was up and getting paper towels and fresh clothes for my other kid. It's just what you gotta do.

We all have our own "make it work" moments and stories. My mother in law likes to tell me about the time she was ridiculously exhausted, like near comatose, and watching six kids at once (her four, her sister's two) one afternoon. She dozed on the sofa while they drew in crayon on her new wallpaper. Her thought, before she let her eyes close, "I can always paint over it." She made it work, people.

It's what we all do as parents. We make it work. Every day. Whether we go to work or stay home, whether we juggle one, two or more than three kids. Whether we live in houses, apartments, on communes or campsites. We all have to make this thing called parenting work.

So, here's where Tim Gunn comes in. He's always trying to get the Project Runway designers to see that even if they lack the proper supplies (who knew taffeta was so pricey?) or don't have enough time to finish sewing, there's always something else that can be done to make the situation work. And if it's not perfect, that's okay too.

Is your little one pooping in her pants on the playground? Make it work, he'd say.

Toddler kicking you in your pregnant belly and yelling, "I don't want a new sister!" What's that you hear? "Make it work."

Eleven o'clock on a work/school night and your kids are still awake? Oh, you actually need to get some "actual" work done? You know what I'm gonna say, "Make it work."

Nobody wants a bath? Make it work, my friends.

Your kids' babysitter tells you she doesn't know who Punky Brewster is when you reference the 80s child star. You old hag! Stop crying and make it work!

I cannot count the multitude of times when I need to just make stuff work because anyone with kids knows from experience, you cannot plan worth shizz when it comes to kids. Someone gets all cranky, someone's wheels start to come off in the middle of a grocery store aisle, someone gets puked on and that's it! Plans? Out the door!

That's when it's time to channel an inner Tim Gunn and say to no one in particular (or, heck, say it to that crazy lady who just told you your daughter needs to be wearing a hat in this weather!), "I can make it work."

Take me this morning. I woke up to my four-year-old flicking my nipple and asking in a snarky voice, "Mom, what's this thing?" She had pulled down my pajama shirt and was just staring at me. Later, her younger sister let forth an epic Number Two during a close commute on a crosstown bus.

Guess what I did? I called upon my inner Timmy G and I made it work.

In all seriousness, though, wouldn't life be so great if we could just make it all work? If we could actually be okay with whatever came our way while parenting - instead of fighting the incessant urge to control everything?

Why, as parents, are so worried about this concept? Making it work means admitting defeat, in a way, doesn't it? But it doesn't have to.

Throwing on the TV instead of reading three books aloud because you actually have something else you need or want to do while you're with your kids? Why do we, as a culture, think of this as akin to showing the kids porn or feeding them cat food for dinner? We are that crazed about being perfect parents that we can't just let stuff work the way it's gonna work sometimes.

And, you know what, it's not gonna always work the way we want or hope or ever expect.

What Tim Gunn, and anyone else who tries to "make it work" is actually telling us to do is to forgive ourselves, to accept our greatest parenting triumphs and the things we perceive as the fails. Tim Gunn says "make it work" and we can be confident that we can and will. The only one who can make this parenting thing work is you.

So, next time the parenting racket has got you down, get back up and make it work people! We've got a runway show to produce and some kids to raise!

Going Poopy In The Potty? There's An App For That.

About this time last year, my toddler dropped my iPhone into the toilet. I was brushing my teeth when it happened, trying to keep her preoccupied for just a few more seconds while I rinsed and spit. It got quiet in the bathroom. And then.... Plop. Splash. "Mommy, oh no! Wow!" I fished the device out of my in-laws' toilet bowl and got on the Internet to figure out what to do.

I found a forum where people recommended turning the phone off immediately and sticking it in a bowl of rice (the grain apparently sops up moisture). Others had success with hair dryers. But, in the end, my phone couldn't be revived. So a few days later I sheepishly made my way to the Apple store.

When the 20-something Apple saleswoman saw my angelic-faced and very petite little girl, she shook her head. "You did this?" She asked my daughter, "I don't believe it. You must have some arm on you."

Then, she tried to make me feel better, "At least it was her. You don't know how many people come in here with the same problem, but it's because they were texting on the toilet." Thanks, I thought. Sort of. I guess she was saying that if I had been checking the Nasdaq or playing Angry Birds while taking a bathroom break, things could be worse. Or at the very least, more embarrassing.

But, I was. Embarrassed. I felt like a bad mom for giving my kid a device to buy myself time. Because I had read all the studies. It's not good to let an under two-year-old near a screen. No TV, says the pediatrician and a load of other experts. The same goes for the computer and any other mobile device. And yet, the bathroom incident wasn't the first time.

When my daughter was still a newborn, I attended a mom's meet-up at a Mexican restaurant in my Brooklyn neighborhood. I had a margarita (yes, I was still breastfeeding, sign my arrest warrant now.) I was standing near two moms, both wearing their babes in cozy little breast-hugging sacks.

Mom #1 said to Mom #2, "I did something awful today." "Mom #2: "What? Is everything OK?" Mom #1: "Yes, but I put my little guy in front of our computer and let him watch a TV show for half an hour while I rested on the couch."

This is when I smiled to myself and thought about how awesome it was that this mom was being honest. Then, Mom #2 responded: "Oh, that's not good."

I had to make sure my hearing was working.

Well, Mom #2, today, my little one is just over two-years-old and she's mastered my phone, the TV remote and knows how to turn on our computer. She even made her first movie on my phone the other day and I sent it around to all of our family members proud of the nuanced angles she'd generated, the skill with which she could hold the device and speak into the frame. I know parents who let their children watch whole episodes of Sesame Street via iPad while sitting on the potty. My daughter probably recognized the apple icon lighting up on my computer before she learned to love the fruit itself. And I'm still not sure if that makes me sad or a little bit proud. 

When we were first conquering potty training in our household, I gave my daughter the phone one day and turned on a farm animal app (insert joke here) so that she'd be distracted enough to sit still. My husband instantly poo-pooed my, ahem, poo-poo strategy. He didn't feel it was right or necessary to allow her to surf while trying to go number one or two. We argued and eventually were interrupted by my daughter yelling, "Mommy, Daddy! I poopy!"

So, she sat, she went and she conquered. But thanks to an iPhone app? I started researching, and discovered people weren't just using gadgets as distractions in the bathroom. After a few quick searches, I found apps to help toddlers build on bathroom successes, extend them into a learning experience.... I could "reward" my daughter with fun stars and games each time she tried and eventually did the deed.

All this made me start to feel sick. There should be a limit, right? There's something almost trashy about having my daughter use an iPhone while sitting on the potty. It's like when George Costanza takes some reading material into a bookstore bathroom and then is asked to purchase the book because it's been "flagged" as having been in the restroom. I don't even like seeing reading material near the commode. It always bothers me when we go to someone's home and they have cutesy trivia books set up near the toilet. Gross, I want to scream. Just get in and get out.

And, then there's the judgment thing I've placed on myself as a mother. If I start relying on technology to help my daughter deal with the most basic of activities (the get-in-and-get-out), what kind of parent am I really? Yes, she takes photos and listens to her favorite songs, but I took the Netflix app off entirely because she would look at my phone and announce, "Watch Dora?"

So, we made a "No Phone in the Bathroom" rule and our daughter now has a nice little stack of board books (easier to wipe off if there's spillage) next to her throne. My little Costanza.

Where do you draw the line, er, tinkle in the sand? Like one other mother here pointed out, I feel it's OK to allow for some screen time during the day. Go ahead, sue me. My daughter counts to ten in Spanish and I think Dora might have had something to do with that. But now when she gets to the real "number two," I'll know it was all me.

*Note: This essay first appeared thanks to The Huffington Post (here's the original link, crazy comments and all!) and HuffPost Parents.