Sometimes We Don't Relate I Guess

I remember when Bugga was about 7 months old and I was struggling with her sleep regression, waking up with her every night at random times, for 100 different reasons - she was practicing standing, her pacifier fell out of the crib, she had a stuffed up nose...anything. It always seemed to be something. I remember sharing my woes with a friend of mine whose son is about a year older. Her response, "Hmmm, oh well we never had that problem so I can't help. Sorry!" said with an inappropriately cavalier attitude. Guess how much I see this friend since this stellar understanding moment? Yeah, not much.

Was her son always an awesome sleeper? The odds are against it, but sure it's possible. Is that really the point though? The point, at least from my perspective, was to be just the teensiest bit understanding about my situation. I mean, we're both moms right? We've likely read a lot of the same books about parenting and know relatively the same general information about all there is to know about the possibility that our children might have some trouble sleeping at some point. And I was likely mentioning my strife for 30 lousy seconds of commiseration. Commiseration I didn't get.

We just finished a weekend of the initial move to potty train my 2.5 year old daughter. It was a long weekend of never leaving the house, with highs and (really gross) lows but we did make it out the other side. I am happy to say she spent the entire day at preschool today with ZERO accidents - and this is just Day 4.

Anyway, I was reminded of the situation above when I left the house for a lousy hour this past weekend to run some quick errands that included picking up more Frozen and Minnie Mouse underwear that have been helping to motivate my daughter, as well as restocking our supply of several small prizes for her successes. While at the checkout of one of the stores, I get into a conversation with the cashier regarding what I was in the midst of at home (nope, that stash of sequined $1 princess crowns are not for a party actually, but instead are poop rewards - hey you asked), making it pretty obvious that it's been exhausting. No joke, she says, "Ah yes...with my daughter she just put on her underwear one day and that was it. It was great!" Ughhhhhh, seriously?

So what is with the knee-jerk lack of empathy between moms? Is this normal? Has it happened to anyone else?