Most parents have experienced being somewhere public with a totally out-of-hand beast that somewhat resembles your own child. They might be screaming, crying, yelling, laying on the ground, or knocking things to the floor with a sticky, combo inspector gadget/sith lord super-power. And you have so little energy or time that you simply have to finish the task at hand. You cannot drop your grocery basket and walk out or there will be nothing to eat in the morning, no special requests to take home to your sick spouse, or no gift for your nephew’s birthday party in twenty minutes. It simply must be done. You are doing the best parenting that you can in the moment complete with serious faces, listing of consequences, hushed threats, or pleading; whatever tactic might prevail. But your child is too far gone to listen to or see any of it. You could be a life-sized gummy bear for as effective as you have any hope of being; you are literally surviving the moment.
But there are people looking: people whose children are raised and who never had kids who “acted like that” (as though this moment is indicative of your every day); the parent of a satiated 6-month-old dangling from a child carrier whose yet intact hopes and expectations make them sure that they will never be like you; the folks who are either glad that they never had kids, have instantaneously decided that they never will, or who are sure that you’re doing it wrong. And then there’s the parents whose glances you catch that try to commiserate with you from a distance, but in the dizziness of your heavy sweat, it still feels like judgment (probably because you ARE judging yourself).
I have been there many, many times. My children are typically pretty mild-mannered, albeit too smart for their own good. The first time that I felt the fleeting inclination to push my full cart down an isle with my kid in it and walk the other direction like we didn’t belong together came when my then two-year-old daughter had been protesting my selection of jarred spaghetti sauce. She wanted me to put it back and I told her that I was, in fact, not going to put it back. After three isles of this, I took a half-step away to grab a box of cereal as she stood up and launched the jar half-way down the aisle, the contents exploding everywhere as her battle cry of “NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” rang through the store. The last time I suffered the glances of those who had been there, my son was freaking out that he couldn’t buy a huge erector set from a store where we had popped in to trick-or-treat. He broke down in tears and screams of objection so intense that I instantly started my period. Not kidding. I. Have. Been. There.
For folks with experiences like me, we know (painfully) that it’s almost guaranteed to happen again, but let’s not be too hard on ourselves next time. Kids test us in every possible scenario we could present; I’m positive that it’s in their job description. If we can keep a cool head, what others think of us is not so important, regardless of whether they are trying to deliver solidarity or casting a keen eye of judgment. If you haven’t been there, trust me when I say that your day is coming. Just a heads up; it will not be fun. And when that moment arrives, like me, you will think of all of the moments that you judged too harshly and feel awful. Because being a successful parent is not defined by molding perfect children as a result of having it all figured out, but rather loving intensely, knowing yourself and your child as best as you can, and thoughtfully putting one foot in front of the other, careful not to track too much spaghetti.
