Mommy Drive By

When I've read Flea's accounts of the Mommy Drive bys she's experienced, I cheer when she stands up for herself in the moment. I anxiously read the comments for more stories and feel such sadness and frustration when parents are struck dumb in the moment, unable to determine how to respond until later.

If only life were like fiction and we all either traveled with scriptwriters or had pause buttons so that we could figure out the most appropriate response to the unexpected critique.

I had a couple of mommy drive bys today, but they were the stealthy non-confrontational kind. I actually prefer confrontation. Especially when I'm already mad. But these . . . it took me hours to put my finger on exactly why I was upset, let alone how I could have reacted differently.

The girls and I went to The Science Center today. We parked on the (free!) planetarium side and took the long walk (airplanes! airplanes!) over the bridge (truck!) to the main building. After a very little while over there, we were done. Done, done, done, exhausted. It hadn't even been an hour since we left our car, but we were very, very done.

In fact, Ada hadn't been willing to be set down all day. She's been in an up-up-up carry me phase for a while now. Ellie is 4-1/2, and I'm trying to get her walk more, rely on the stroller less. So we were stuck, blocks from the car, stroller-less.

Ellie was not cooperative. I have always hated seeing adults pulling small children along by the arm or wrist, rather than holding their hands. I always swore that I would never be that kind of mom.

Today, I was that mom. Holding Ellie's hand when she doesn't want you to is like holding spaghetti. (Ditto putting a shoe on her foot. It's an interesting effect of her low muscle tone; you'd be amazed if you've never tried it.) Every time I let go of her hand/wrist, she collapsed to the floor, doubled over, sobbing. She refused to move on her own, and no amount of coaxing, cajoling, supporting, bribing, or threat-of-consequences-ing (no snack in the car if I count you to 3!) was at all motivational. But the girls were exhausted, no one was having fun, and we had to get back to the car.

So I held Ellie by the hand/wrist and walked. She walked along beside me, sobbing loudly, drawing attention. Not everybody stared. As we'd entered the Center, we'd passed a another mom doing a similar quick exit with screaming child, but she just had the one child, whom she was able to carry. Ada screamed and tried to climb me whenever I put her down. And she's just 1, so carrying her is reasonable. Ellie will be 5 in October, and she weighs 41 pounds.

So I walked, Ada on one hip, Ellie attached to my other hand, and people stared.

Figuring that the potty might be part of the problem, I stopped at the family bathroom near the exit. A woman was just going in with a little baby, presumably to change a diaper. She saw us, hesitated for a moment, then went ahead. And took forever. She had to be in there at least 5 minutes, all while Ellie was on the floor outside the door, tantruming. But I knew that she needed to go to the bathroom and surely this lady would be considerate and quick, right? Wrong.

While we waited 2 different women came over to intervene with Ellie. Others were staring, and I'm sure had similar opinions about my parenting but restrained themselves from coming up to us.

I moved Ellie out of the way, near a wall, while we waited. She was sitting on the carpet, doubled over with her forehead to the floor, sobbing in her pretty blue dress and white sandals, outfit per her request. Ada was in my arms, dressed identically to her big sister, fussing sympathetically.

The first woman came right up to Ellie, knelt down next to her, and starting trying to comfort her. The second woman, a little later, was standing where she could see Ellie but not me. She started to approach, saw me, and said, "Oh, I assumed she must be alone."

"No, I'm right here," I said. "This is a tantrum."

"OK," she said, somewhat doubtfully, and walked away.

That wasn't so bad. But when coupled with all the stares, plus the first woman who came back two more times to try to comfort Ellie while we waited, it all made me very uncomfortable.

If I'd know how long the inconsiderate nanny woman was going to take in the bathroom, I'd have gone into the big bathroom (despite Ellie's tearful protests that she'd prefer the little bathroom) or even gone straight out to our van and pulled out the portable potty seat.

But I had no way of knowing that we'd be waiting for long enough to cause such a scene, so we waited.

Then we marched on out to the car, mommy still murmuring reassurances to the girls, carrying one and pulling the other along. I didn't walk too fast, Ellie had no trouble keeping up with me, but the moment I relaxed my grip she just melted into a puddle on the ground. So I didn't relax until we were at the car.

Whereupon both girls got into their car seats without protest and fell asleep before we were back on the highway. At 11:30 in the morning. Way before naptime. Of course, they both woke up when we arrived at home 20 minutes later. (And, indeed, Ellie didn't nap at all this afternoon, Ada only went down after lodging a short but shrill protest.)

I have no idea why they were so tired - we're coming off an unprogrammed and relaxing weekend and a normal night's sleep, and this was a relatively short outing. Alas. All things considered, I can't think of too many things I would have done differently.

But back to the drive-by. When relating the story to mama friends tonight, I finally realized what bugged me so much about the nice lady who kept trying to comfort Ellie.

1) She never addressed me in any way, and you simply do not approach a small child who's in the care of an adult without at least making eye contact and getting a smile or nod from the caregiver.

2) She was interfering with my parenting. Ellie was throwing a tantrum. I have read books about how to handle tantrums. I was consciously considering my approach and acting the way I felt was most appropriate for my child. For someone else to intervene countermanded my approach and she had no authority to do that.

If I had it to do over again, I'd step forward and reassure the woman that I was the mother and in charge, and that I was handling this tantrum the way I saw fit. If I were feeling nice, I'd thank her for her concern before dismissing her.

To close, a quote from my current favorite discipline book, 1-2-3 Magic, from Chapter 7: "What to Do in Public:"

Fear of embarrassment and public disapproval has at times made even the most competent parents forget what they're supposed to do, change their tactics, and crumble. Try to remember this basic principle: The long-term welfare of your kids comes before short-term worries about what others are going to think.