When Moms Attack...

Ok, so not literally. I'm not talking about a fist fight.
I'm talking about a mom berating her child in public.

A few weeks ago, I read a post by Lisa Belkin, whose blog, Motherlode, runs in the NY Times. The topic was Friends with Different Parenting Styles. I read in disbelief about moms who felt entitled to criticize other moms freely, after all they were friends. The discussion centered on whether to remain friends with someone who felt so comfortable telling you that your parenting sucks.

I thought, short of seeing someone hitting their kid, I couldn't really imagine criticizing someone else's parenting style. After all, shouldn't we all just be doing what's best for our own families? I have mom friends who parent quite differently than I do. We don't have problems - we have playdates, mom-dates, we get along. We respect each others choices.

And then it happened. I was in the park with my son. It was the end of the day and we were getting ready to leave. Diego had been playing with another child who was now being verbally ripped to shreds by mommy.  I didn't think that the child had done anything that terrible, certainly nothing out of character for a 4-year old. But the kiddo's behavior must have pushed a button, because mom lost it.  I had to wonder if she spoke to her child like that all of the time or if she was having a really bad day. After all, I had spoken to her on occasion and she seemed nice enough. But I was shocked by the hurtful words she was saying to her little child.

Now let me say upfront, I yell. My mom was a yeller. I'm a yeller. And, though I do have a pretty long fuse, when I've reached my limit I resort to yelling. I am not proud of it. It is not how I want to parent. I struggle every day to have more patience, to try to understand what I can learn from the situation at hand. But, sometimes there's nothing else I am able to do in that moment. So I resort to yelling my child's name in hopes that he will hear the stress and seriousness in my voice. And of course, it doesn't work. It never works. Yelling at your child only makes them tune you out ever further. Or so it seems...

When I was a child, my mother screamed at us on a regular basis. I was the oldest of four, but even when it was just me and my brother - she was always yelling. And she was mean. As much as I wanted to tune her out, I couldn't. Maybe it seemed we weren't listening - I wish that I hadn't been. But on nearly every occasion that something unpleasant came out of her mouth, I heard every word. I was scared of her. My mother scared the crap out of me. And that's really sad... it's also something that I don't want for my little boy. Which is why I struggle to keep cool, and why I'm struggling as I write this post.

Would it have mattered if this playground mom had just screamed her child's name instead of something mean? What if it was just "come here now!" Is that ok? And where do you draw the line? Maybe the effect depends on the kid - though I can't remember one time where I just heard my name screamed at me from across the room. Maybe that's just me.

Is it really my business that this woman said awful things to her child? In a way, yes. I wasn't eavesdropping - I was right there. I'll probably never say anything to this woman though. I doubt that I'd be heard (for a variety of reasons). And I don't have that kind of relationship with her. But it is an opportunity. It's a chance to learn more about myself and how I parent.

I started this blog so I could reflect on my choices as a mother, to understand how I could live a more compassionate life - for myself, for my family.  Seeing behavior in others that I am uncomfortable with leads me to ask myself why? Am I sensitive in this situation because of my own childhood? Probably. Can I understand how this mom lost it? Absolutely. But, I also understand how this little child felt. This new reminder of something that happened to me such a long time ago will hopefully serve as my teacher. I pray everyday for the compassion to better handle the challenges I face as a parent. And I pray for the mindfulness to remember that anyone can be my teacher.

Thanksgiving

I used to hate Thanksgiving.

For the life of me, I couldn't understand why we would celebrate a fairy tale, while ignoring how the indigenous people of this land suffered at our hands.  When it was my turn to say grace at the table, I always said a prayer remembering the people we displaced, segregated, dehumanized in the name of our own "freedom." Needless to say, I was the downer at the table.

Many, many years later, I am still not crazy about this holiday. I would rather we have an Indigenous People's Day or a Harvest Celebration and just be rid of these holidays that discount the experience of those who were here first.  But, I have been able to find personal meaning in this day as I become more aware of the politics of food, and the importance of supporting local farmers. I am thankful for my local CSA and the bounty of food that we have been blessed with this past season, despite many challenges. I can celebrate the harvests of the farmers on Long Island who provided my family with fresh, organic produce over the past six months.

And there's the other part of this equation - my family. I can finally feel real thanks and appreciation for family. Growing up, my family life was challenging. So while I did love my family, we weren't close. Today, though, I have that feeling of true gratitude and unconditional love. I owe that to Diego - my sweet baby - and all of the challenges that have come along with him.

Diego has Sensory Processing Disorder, which in general makes me alternately crazy and sad. But SPD has actually given me a gift. To help Diego, I have had to slow down in a way that would not have happened with a neurotypical child. It was forced upon me. I had to slow down so he could be ok. When you can do this, and really meet your child at their level - special needs or not - it is an amazing gift, an opportunity to understand love - to truly give love to another person. However I have had to get to this place, to this bond with my child, I can honestly say that I am grateful.  And that is what I will celebrate on Thanksgiving.