I picked her up off the floor, and wiped her teary eyes. The play area in the mall was crowded, and she was overwhelmed, over-stimulated, and tired. I decided to put her in the stroller and walk around for a bit so she could get her much needed morning nap.
I kissed her squishy cheek, then nestled her into the stroller, and she immediately began screaming in protest. Because that’s what babies do when they’re tired.
As I buckled her in, a woman approached me. “Why are you not comforting that baby?” she asked.
I turned with a smile, because I thought she was kidding. She didn’t smile in return.
“Oh,” I replied, a little shocked at the sincerity of her question. “Well, she’s tired so I’m putting her down so she can go to sleep.” Meanwhile Annika screamed her head off beside us.
The woman leaned down and looked closely at her, then turned to me with narrowed eyes. “I am a guardian ad litem,” she said, and the superior tone in her voice immediately sent my blood pressure sky rocketing. “You can’t just lay a baby down when she’s screaming like that. This is abuse!”
I held up my hands and stepped between her and the stroller. “Whoa,” I responded, my voice rising. “I’m pretty sure I know what’s best for my own daughter, and right now what’s best for her is to lay down and take a walk so she can fall asleep.”
“Well at least give the poor child a pacifier or something,” she barked back. And my voice rose higher still.
“Excuse me, but you have NO RIGHT to tell me what’s best for my daughter. She doesn’t take pacifiers. She never has. I know that because I AM HER MOTHER. So don’t you DARE try to tell me what’s best for my child.”
At this point people were beginning to stare, but I didn’t care, because I was concentrating so hard on not screaming a four letter word, or hitting the haughty woman in front of me.
She took a step back and shook her head. “Just comfort your child please,” she said. “I feel sorry for a child who has a mother who cares so little.”
She turned to walk away, and I screeched at her back, “You have no idea what you’re talking about. YOU ARE A STRANGER!”
And then I shook and trembled for thirty minutes before I could calm back down.
It’s been two days since this all went down, and when I think of her words I’m still filled with fury. I don’t for a second believe anything she said. I know I’m a good mom. It would take more than the judgmental words of a clearly out of line stranger to convince me otherwise.
But the fact that she had the audacity to say them in the first place, and that she could make such a devastating claim based on ten seconds of observation, are what send my blood pressure through the roof.
Here’s the thing: I sometimes feel that the mothers of my generation are a little bit hyper-sensitive, especially when it comes to the generally well-meant comments of older moms. We feel pressured when encouraged to “enjoy every minute,” and insulted when asked if we’re going to “try for a girl/boy,” and so on and so forth.
The phrase, “You’ve got your hands full,” is met with snarky replies, because somehow we’ve come to believe that every older woman offering advice is attacking us in some way or another. I’ve long felt that us younger moms need to chill out a little bit and give the older ladies a break.
On the other side of that coin, however, this nanny state in which we live means that we as younger mothers must constantly look over our shoulders. We’re told not to hover, because helicopter parenting is causing issues for the younger generation, yet if we step away for a second, or lengthen the leash we hold on our children too far, we just might get a visit from Child Protective Services.
A single mom is interviewing for a job in the mall food court, her young children sitting at a table away from her on their own. She doesn’t get the job, but she does get arrested for “neglect.”
When I was a kid, my mom could leave my brother and I in the car for a few minutes if she had to run into the store and grab two items for dinner. If I were to do that today, I could be arrested, so I haul all four children into the store to buy three items, and the baby screams, and people stare and roll their eyes.
Several months ago, I gave my eleven year old a shopping list a mile long, and I sent him through Target to get the needed items while I sat with the other three in the eye doctor’s exam room, and I worried the entire time. I wasn’t afraid anything would happen to him, but I feared someone would come haul me away and charge me with neglect.
Being a mom this day in age is scary.
This week, I was called insensitive and abusive for allowing my child to cry in her stroller. And no matter how off base her comments were, the fact is this woman was a government appointed employee. Had she wanted to exert power, she could have done so.
Older moms, it’s time for you all to step up and help us younger moms out. For the most part, I think that the vast majority of women are supportive and caring and loving. I do think that we have each other’s backs. But…
[Tweet “It’s time to step up as moms and say no more.”]
It’s time to form an alliance, the old and the young, and agree that when a young mother is out in public with a screaming baby, or toddler, or big kid for that matter, we’ll offer a look of solidarity, a pat on the back, and maybe a few words of encouragement (“It’s hard, isn’t it? You’re doing a good job.).
If we see children sitting alone in a food court, let’s ask them where their mom is. If she’s interviewing for a job, or buying their lunch, or taking an older sibling to the bathroom, we can sit close by and keep an eye on the kids. Maybe we could find their mother and offer to help out so that she can relax, and maybe even land the job.
What if we quit telling on each other, and instead we started looking out for one another – like they did in the generations before us? What if we quit immediately assuming the worst, and believed instead that these young moms actually do have their children’s best interests at heart? What if instead of believing we know what’s best for a perfect stranger’s child, we offered congratulations to the mother for working so hard?
And younger moms, what if we quit taking offense to every innocent question asked, and we thanked the older women for stopping to admire our children? What if we appreciated the wisdom they have to offer, instead of accusing them of being judgmental? (Unless, of course, they are being judgmental. *wink*)
What if we all thought of ourselves as part of the same team, and we worked together instead of individually?
She walks out of the bathroom and looks at me imploringly, asking without saying a word, and knowing my answer without really having to be told.
Hanging her head, she trudges to her room and pulls a rash guard on over her two piece bathing suit, then heads out to swim.
This was our compromise. She so desperately wanted a bikini, and I caved, but on one condition: She only wears it at home when it’s our family. If anyone else is over, or she goes to a friend’s house, she wears a swim shirt.
This has been a tough rule for me to implement, if I’m being honest. Really tough. And I’ve caved on occasion, which isn’t fair to her. But the battle wears me out, because while I do see the value in teaching my daughter modesty, I also understand the struggle that she faces, especially living in a state when it’s bathing suit season year round.
It’s almost true what she tells me: Everyone she knows wears two pieces. And at nine years old, when she’s oblivious to sexuality, teaching modesty is a difficult concept. At this age, it simply boils down to obedience. I require her compliance on this issue even though she doesn’t understand.
“Why does it matter if I show off my body?” she asks. “People don’t really care about looking at me.”
Oh, but my daughter, they do.
It complicates matters when she’s a gymnast, and at nine years old has a body that is envious. Toned and lean, she doesn’t look like most nine year olds, and it makes her dad shudder to think what she’ll look like at 16.
So we fight the fight, even though it’s hard and it doesn’t make sense, but sometimes the boundary lines get muddied, and I stumble over myself, and I can’t find the balance.
“Well, if I’m going to my friend’s house, and it’s just going to be us girls, can I wear my two piece then?” This is where the battle heats up, because why not? Why can’t she if it’s just going to be the girls at a friend’s house? But then the envelope gets pushed even further.
“Well, we’re going to the beach, but it’s just with my friends who are girls, so can I wear my bikini?”
Round and round we go with me bringing bathing suit after bathing suit home for her to try on. Tankini’s and cute one pieces. Fun rash guards that are bright colors. Everything I can do to show her that wearing a bikini is not the only way to have a good time in the sun.
It’s a battle I’m willing to fight, but I admittedly get tired. I grow weary with the constant asking, the forever boundary pushing, and she’s only nine. We have a long way to go.
But I believe it’s a worthy battle. I really do. In a world that defines women by how they look, I want my daughter to have confidence that her bikini body isn’t what’s most important.
And fitting in, though so very compelling, isn’t all that important, either.
I want her to respect her body, and not to define herself against a culture that says more skin means more beautiful.
That being said, what I won’t do is tell her to cover herself in order to help the boys control themselves. It’s not her job to try to control a boy’s physical impulses.
But she can respect their struggle. And she can respect herself.
The truth is, deep down I don’t have a huge problem with two piece bathing suits. Two piece or one pice, a bathing suit leaves little to the imagination, and I think there are plenty of cute two pieces that don’t look like little swaths of lingerie.
But I can predict the future, and I know that if a boundary line isn’t set now, at nine, then when she is sixteen and her body is everything that terrifies her father, it will be too late. The battle for modesty starts today, even if her young mind cannot grasp the importance or significance of the issue.
So every time she comes out with wide, imploring eyes, I offer her a smile and a wink, then toss her the rash guard and remind her that she is precious and beautiful, and it’s okay to be different.
I also bought her a cute tankini that shows a tiny strip of her abdomen.
Compromise.This is the key to winning the good fight.
This post is not at all meant to be an indictment on anyone who allows their daughter to wear a two piece. This is the struggle that we face as a family based on things that we feel are important to us. I am not in any way condemning or laying guilt on those who choose differently.
Yesterday, I looked down at my fourth born, who fell asleep on my chest about mid-way through the day because it was Mother’s Day and she apparently wanted to do the sweetest thing she could possibly do to make sure she got the title FAVORITE CHILD (mission accomplished), and I breathed in her scent and thought, “I still have no idea what I’m doing with you.”
There are a few perks to having a fourth baby with three older kids in the house. In a lot of ways, I’m much calmer than I was before. And in other ways, I’m a total wreck.
If this baby lives through the next 9 months, it will be a miracle, since we’re roaring into the crawling stage and pretty much this entire house is a choking hazard. Why did we ever get our children toys? Why couldn’t they just play with sticks? Are toys really necessary?
And why did we think a house with a pool was a good idea? Sure, when we moved in we didn’t forsee having another baby. Sure, we live in Florida and the resale value of a house is higher with a pool. But why did we do this? WHAT WERE WE THINKING?!
This is why I don’t sleep anymore.
The perks of having a surprise baby far outweigh any of the drawbacks (i.e. lack of sleep due to the fear of ALL THE THINGS that could go wrong), but in truth, there are days when I simply don’t know what I’m doing.
Am I supposed to be feeding her solids at this point? I dunno.
Should I make her food instead of buying the store bought stuff that’s probably full of arsenic or some other toxin that’s bound to make her a tiny little crazy person in five years? I’m willing to take the risk on the store bought.
Should I give her medicine for this runny nose, or make her tough it out? This is why I have Essential oils. Makes me feel useful and appear to have a plan for how to tackle congestion when on the inside I’m panicking because LOSS OF SLEEP LOSS OF SLEEP LOSS OF SLEEP!
Sometimes I look into the future, and I wonder how this is going to work with her. When she is six years old, all of her siblings will be teenagers. Will there be time for play dates? Will she be able to have any friends of her own, or will she turn into one of those wallflower Emo girls who can’t hold a decent conversation with people her age because she’s been drug from one event to another with her siblings for the whole of her life?
Should we give her one more sibling so she has a playmate?
THERE ARE SO MANY QUESTIONS!!!
These kids of mine are all so different. Their gifts are different. Their challenges are different. Their strengths and personalities, likes and dislikes – all of them are so different. And now there’s this baby whose personality is starting to emerge, and I love it. We’re officially entering the phase where every day I claim, “This is my favorite age!”
She’s beginning to crawl (Jesus be near), and giggles at random moments (the best ever – don’t let it stop). She’s still sweet, and the fiery side hasn’t emerged quite yet (No back talk, no arched back screams, nothing – This is why she’s so deserving of the FAVORITE CHILD title).
But that’s going to change. I know for certain that it will, and she will present her own unique joys and challenges, likes and dislikes. There’s a part of me that wishes I could just freeze her where she is now. Why do we need to rush on to the next phase?
But then I look at my big kids, and instead of thinking about the challenges, I catalog their strengths. I measure the humor and the talent, the insight, the child-like wisdom, the generosity, and genuine care for the people of this world, and I think that this motherhood gig is pretty dang amazing.
Hard? Yes.
I’ve done it four times now, and do I know what I’m doing? Sometimes. But usually no.
Am I good at it? Yes. Even when I feel like I’m not, I know that I am.
Would I change a single thing? Nope. Not one.
I wouldn’t space things out any differently, either, because seeing my big kids with their sister is heart meltingly sweet. They turn to sugar around her, and she knows it. She may end up rotten for it, but I’ll take rotten over wallflower Emo any day of the week.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go puree some organic applesauce for my sweet baby.
Just kidding – I’m gonna go make myself another cup of coffee and pop open a can of Gerber Stage 2 Sweet Potatoes, then plop a box of Rice Crispies on the table for the big kids.
Last year, I posted this photo of a sign I hung on our laundry room door. It boldly proclaimed the plans for our Summertime Agenda of Awesome:
We really did have an agenda that was packed full of awesome last year, and this year proves to be shaping up nicely as plans are finalized, and preparations are made for trips and visitors.
But still, in the busy and the crazy and the constant Go-Go-Go of life, I want to make sure we take some time to just breathe. Because the temptation is to fill up every square moment of the days until suddenly school starts again, and one more summer is gone as life continues to chug full speed ahead toward kids graduating.
Sloan starts middle school next year.
Hang on. I need a moment to process what I just wrote.
Middle. Freaking. School.
We only have eight summers left before he goes to college. Eight summers left to make memories as an in tact family unit. Eight summers left to explore together while everyone lives under the same roof.
So I’m very conscious of the fact that we need to soak the days up for what they are. A treasured gift. Because some day these kids of mine will be grown and out of the house. And when they leave, I hope they’ll look back on our summers with fondness. I hope the arguments and boredom, and the sense of insanity that always seems to trail behind us like a persistent breeze fade away, leaving nothing but a true sense of nostalgia.
So with that in mind, I’m busy planning this year’s Summertime Agenda of Awesome, and I thought I’d share a few suggestions for all of you so that you could plan your own awesomeness.
1.) Limit technology
Oh, it’s a temptation to let them park in front of the TV and lay around the house, and there are certainly times for that. But summer is also about swimming and basking in the hot sun. It’s is for lemonade and cookies, and falling into bed tired and exhausted after a long day of playing.
Set limits on television and electronics usage, and stick to your guns. The kids will try to talk you out of the limits, and they’ll make persuasive arguments that will sound good when you’re feeling exhausted, but don’t let them wear you down! Offer a lot of alternatives to technology to help them learn to entertain themselves as the lazy days stretch out slowly.
2.) Let them sleep in
Friends, I say this as one who has children who are loathe to sleep late. While there are perks to having early risers (namely getting them out the door during the school year is a breeze), in the summer it is less thrilling to hear them rummaging through the kitchen at 6 am.
So, if you have sleepers, let them sleep in (within reason) as often as possible. And if you don’t, like me, then you’ll simply need to plan on drugging your kids so they sleep longer.
I’M KIDDING!
(Unless that’s a possibility, in which case I might not be kidding…)
3.) Stockpile their rooms with books
Make it a habit to visit the library weekly and bring home new books. Because I have children who don’t love reading, I bribe mine to read. They get 1-2 dollars/book depending on length and difficulty. (I might even be inclined to pay more if they read a really hard book, but I’ve never had to cross that bridge.)
Maybe you have strong readers and paying them per book would bankrupt you. Perhaps you put pay them for the number of pages they read (set the number high for the avid reader). Or perhaps you simply offer a fun excursion at the end of the summer if they reach a certain goal.
Whatever you choose, make reading a summer staple, and teach them the art of relaxing with a book rather than relaxing with an iPad. (Hint: You’ll need to lead by example on this one, mom. Stock up your own pile of books as well.)
4.) Plan fun activities
Summer doesn’t have to break the bank. You can find enjoyable summertime activities right in your own backyard if you’re willing to do a little research.
You can also add fun items to the list like painting together (buy up a bunch of paper and water color supplies before school ends and set it in an accessible place), set up a lemonade stand and help the kids raise money to give to a worthy cause.
Let them each pick out a recipe from one of your cookbooks and give them full reign over the kitchen (or age appropriate reign over the kitchen).
There are so many possibilities for summer. When your days stretch from minute to minute, rather than the more hectic hour to hour of the school year, the time to create lasting memories is ripe for the taking.
Of course, the greatest agenda in the world will not prevent those dreaded words of “I’m bored” from slipping out of your children’s mouths, but at least when you hear them you can gesture to the sign on the door and let it be known you’ve done your part in helping them occupy their time.
Tia walked into the kitchen and opened the cabinet, pulling out a small bowl, which she filled with a little oatmeal. I watched as she got out the formula, and together we mixed just the right amount in to make the oatmeal the right consistency.
“Should I give her Pears or Sweet Potatoes?” Tia asked.
“Um…” I was so baffled by what was happening that it took a minute to register what she said. “Sweet Potatoes.”
She mixed the food together, then picked Annika up, put her in her high chair, and proceeded to feed her the entire meal.
As she did this, I cleaned the kitchen, because sometime over the course of the day it had exploded, and I wanted to see if we still had countertops under all those dishes.
After dinner, Tia changed Annika’s diaper (with a little help from me when it was discovered that her sister had had a bit of a blow out), and then put on her pajamas.
“Do you need anything else?” Tia asked.
“Only a promise from you that you will never leave me, ever,” I replied. She laughed.
She thought I was kidding.
This time last year, I was still in freak out mode. Every time I thought about having another baby, I’d have moments of intense panic, followed quickly by moments of intense excitement, which were usually followed again by panic. And round and round I went.
Here’s the deal: I was set to have all my kids out of the house by the time I was 48. I’d be under 50 and have my husband all to myself again, and we had plans, man. Most of the plans included travel, which when you think about it is quite laughable since we’ll have three kids in college at the same time for at least one year.
So realistically, we’ll probably be living off Ramen Noodles again when we get those three out of the house. Good times.
It’s not that having a fourth kid was ever a huge surprise. I mean, we weretrying to adopt a child. We knew we wanted four. But when we adopted, we would have brought home an older child, which is like buying yourself time.
So starting from scratch with number four set us back in our big plans (of eating Ramen Noodles so we can pay for college). But you know what?
Annika is the greatest thing that ever happened to our family.
I don’t say that just because I think she’s awesome (which I totally do), but also because seeing our older kids with a baby is quite possibly the sweetest part of bringing home our new addition.
As Tia scurried through the house helping me get her sister settled, and make all the preparations to head out to Sloan’s baseball game, I couldn’t help but think what an amazing mom she will be someday. She’s getting so much practice right now, and she’s just a natural with her sister. It floods me with warm fuzzies to watch them interact.
There are so many wonderful things about this surprise fourth addition to our home, but the biggest surprise of all has come in watching her brothers and sister fall madly in love with her. And when they speak to her and her face lights up in a smile? Hands down, the best part of this entire experience.
It totally makes up for the fact that Lee will be almost 60 by the time we finally get the house to ourselves again.
