It's official. I've become that mom, the kind of mom I swore I'd never be. It dawned on me as I was dragging my kids through a store at the mall. "Don't touch that, Ben," I said. "Keep your hands to yourself." I used to look at these kinds of moms with disdain and think, "Your child clearly doesn't want to be here, so why are you dragging him to the mall with you." I told myself no way would I ever make my kids suffer through an unwanted shopping trip. Oh, how the mighty has fallen.
Whenever I catch myself cajoling, bribing and threatening my kids, I cringe inside. Even now when I hear other moms doing these same things, I scoff - until I remember that I do these things on a daily basis. Why, just the other day I was giving Ben a lecture about how he reaps what he sows when it comes to his behavior. This was a lengthy and complex talk, and I know all too well how futile this tack is.
I'm also that mom who brings my obnoxious kids to restaurants and bothers fellow patrons. I remember about 10 years back eating at TGI Friday's one night. A family with two or three kids was dining a few tables over. The parents were trying in vain to get the children to behave. After they had gotten up to leave, some young men at another table applauded (i.e. Thank God they're gone). We didn't join in, but we laughed smugly. Now that family probably has well-behaved teen-age children (or if not well-behaved, at least able to sit quietly in a restaurant). That family probably gives me and my loud kids the evil eye when they encounter us at a restaurant.
One virtue motherhood has given me is empathy. I understand that parents aren't always the kind of parent they had hoped to be. Sometimes they need to just get out of the house and try to shop or eat out (family-friendly restaurants only, of course), tired and crabby kids in tow. So 10 years from now, I hope I remember this and give those moms a break.
2 comments:
Oh, I'm definitely that mom. I have found myself adamantly defending my right to enter public places with my child. I feel a sense of entitlement...why should someone random person mandate whether or not I have to stay home and stare at the walls? I have discovered how magically I can divide (and realize) which patrons in a restaurant have had kids or like kids within the first two seconds of us sitting down. I am entirely used to and desensitized to the frequent death rays shooting out from the eyes of the grumpy old man/woman in the corner seat cursing the very notion of children existing on the planet. I say tough sh*t, I'm here to stay. I will always put all my energy into "controlling" my child and raising him to be respectful to adults-even the a-hole in the corner. I'm done ranting...enjoy!
I remember that! Admittedly for most of my adult life I've been that old grumpy man in the corner, although you'd never know it. I believe the only way one can endure the crying, bickering, and whining of a dinner-with-child experience is through the empathy that only first-hand experience can provide. When i have my first child I'll be hoping that every restaurant is filled with such understanding people.
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