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I can’t turn it off.
The judgmental conga line in my head always starts dancing around when I’m with other parents of small children. It’s not the other parents I’m judging, though. What I hear in my head are the comments I’m afraid they are making about me in their own thoughts.
When I’m alone with my boys, I feel like I’m doing an ok job at this whole parenting thing. Mostly, anyway. I manage to get everyone fed and clothed, I smile and laugh with them, I play and give them time to play alone, I feed them more or less healthful food, I make sure they are home for naps. I generally follow the guidelines of most of the parenting experts that I’ve decided know what the heck they’re talking about.
But days alone with small children are a bit lacking in sophisticated – or even normal – conversation, so I try to meet up with other adults. This is when the trouble begins.
As soon as another adult enters my day, my brain splits into three parts.
Part one: Woohoo! Someone who understands four-syllable words! I have so many conversations I want to cram into this next hour!
Part two: What is Sebastian doing? Is Theo getting sleepy? Ok, baby, let’s swaddle you for snoozing. Yes, Sebastian, I see the train. Yes, Sebastian. Ok, Sebastian. Just a minute, Sebastian. How do you ask nicely, Sebastian?
Part three: Oh, lord, I just gave Sebastian juice with his snack. I know it’s because his cold is making his nose run a mile a minute and he won’t drink enough water, so this is the way to ensure that he’ll get some fluids, but that other parent might think I’m one of Those Parents who gives her kid juice all the time even though you’re not supposed to and so now instead of a great conversation about something other than children I should probably mention the reason I’m giving him juice today and how I don’t normally do that and I really watered it down…
I know you’re thinking what I’m thinking. Part three is the Crazy Part of my brain. You’re right. And yet I can’t stop it. I think I spent half of the last four days with lovely friends who were visiting explaining myself and making excuses and apologizing for my less than ideal parenting behavior and my messy house. These were friends who were completely sympathetic to the fact that we all got sick the very morning they arrived and who are so far from judgmental that it was silly for me to be wasting valuable conversation time. But I couldn’t help it.
I also find that I really am a less than stellar parent whenever we’re on playdates or at classes or in public in general. I don’t want to have the Toddler Conversation when there are adults around.
{You know, the Toddler Conversation.
Toddler: That’s a big, red ball right there.
Parent: Yes, it is!
Toddler: That really is a big, red ball right there.
Parent: You’re right! Are you going to kick it?
Toddler: Are you going to kick it?
Parent: Yeah, are you going to kick the big, red ball?
Toddler (joyfully): That’s a big red ball right there!
Parent (sighing): Yes, it is a big, red ball.
Is it just my kid who fixates on things? Another question for another time.}
Anyway, so I don’t want to spend time on big, red balls when I could be talking about…well, anything else. And when I’m talking about anything else, I might not be as quick to react when my kid is asking a zillion questions or is about to do a face plant as he’s trying to step around one toy to get to another. I’m always sure that the other parent thinks that I’m totally neglectful and that it’s amazing that Sebastian isn’t covered in bruises.
Then there are the inevitable misbehaviors by my toddler. They happen when we’re alone too, of course, but I just deal with them. When someone else is around, they take on a new light. I’m trying to ignore his screaming tantrums when he doesn’t get his way so that he stops getting attention from them and stops having them. Occasionally other parents will try to fill what they see as a breach. Then the conversation has to turn to my parenting strategy on tantrums. (This almost never works, however. Few people have the capacity to ignore Sebastian’s tantrums. They are annoyingly effective at attracting attention.)
All the while I am sure the other parent is a) thanking her lucky stars that her kid doesn’t have screaming tantrums over crackers or b) judging whether my strategy of ignoring is pretty much the dumbest thing she’s ever heard and is wondering whether to ask if I’ve tried telling him to stop or to give him time outs. (Yes, yes, I have. They don’t work.)
I have no idea if either of these reactions is true, but because I am so busy wondering if I’m a bad parent because my kid is screaming, I assume that the other person is wondering the same thing.
And the house. Oh man, don’t get me started on the embarrassment that is my house. But not all the time. Only on days when I’ve (foolishly) invited someone over to play. Why is it that the boys never sleep on the days before the playdate so I can clean?? I won’t see my neighbor for weeks at a time when my house is more or less put together and my chores are all happily checked off the list. Then I get sick, the boys get sicker, the house goes to hell, and …yep…there’s the knock at the door. Hi, D! Welcome to my wreck of a house. Sigh. I want to explain that it’s not always like this, but what’s the point? And am I just kidding myself? I think it’s like this more often than not these days.
My point, my point. Yes, I have one. Parenting has brought me to levels of insecurity I didn’t know I possessed.
I just hope the people around us are a lot less judgmental than their imaginary counterparts in my head.
And that I can turn off those voices soon, because I’m pretty sure that hearing voices is one of the first signs of insanity.
>I still feel that way and my babies are 37, 33, and [almost] 32. The good news is that it gets easier to wave away those voices and know that your best efforts, though falling short of your ideal efforts, were accepted by those whose opinions matter most – the babies.
>They are probably thinking that you are judging them 😉 And if they are judging you, you don't want to know them, I promise!
>I am giggling uncontrollably at these "deja vu" experiences most mothers and children encounter–and live through. Doesn't it make you wonder if Deaf parents are less stressed–perhaps more "sane" because they can't hear the screaming? Lucky them, eh?
>Allow me to assure you that – seriously and sincerely – I couldn't care less what the inside of your house looks like … just as long as I get to see your face every once in a while … to know that you are okay! I know ALL TOO WELL your current circumstances. There just aren't enough hours in the day … there isn't enough energy in your body … to do all that your mind wants to do. Funny, I always assume fellow mamas are empathizing with me … no need to make excuses or try to explain, we've all been there, done that!Just so you know, your neighbor thinks you are pretty fantastic! And I enjoy every conversation – despite any and all "red ball" interruptions 🙂