(Everyday Bravery, Day 3)
In the years since I became a parent, there have been a series of signs I’ve wanted to hang on my person/child/stroller/grocery cart while my children and I roam in public. They include:
And of course:
But lately the one I’ve wanted to plaster all over everything (to be brave enough to shout to a world that often views children as burdens) is:
Because the general public? They tend to see us at our worst.
They see me carrying a hefty two-year-old across the parking lot, his flailing body tucked under my arm. They see him screaming his way through the grocery store because that blasted place puts a blasted balloon every five freaking feet. They see me balancing a baby carrier, a massive mom purse, and a cup of coffee on one arm while dragging the two-year-old with the other. They see me shooing and barking the two older boys in the right direction like some sort of frizzy, frazzled herding dog.
They see us running late. They see us overwhelmed. They see us hushing little ones who are accustomed to yelling and singing and roaring as loud as they like. They see a toddler who is frustrated to have been put on a short leash and boys to whom tact is a foreign concept.
They don’t get to see us at home, at peace, actually enjoying one another.
(Not that home is always peaceful. I am thankful every day that the general public doesn’t get to see my sons flipping out because I’ve told them to pick up their toys or me shouting a crazed, wild-eyed JUST EAT YOUR FOOD, ALREADY.)
Ours is a happy home. It may be chaotic and disorganized and screamy, but it’s also full of love and imagination and wonder.
Those strangers don’t get to see my husband hoisting the boys up to the refrigerator door to see if they’ve become magnetic. They don’t get to hear me reading The Story of Ferdinand to that two-year-old at naptime. (“His mother saw that he was not lonesome, and because she was an understanding mother, even though she was a cow, she let him just sit there and be happy.”) They don’t get to brush the curls off his forehead or kiss his great, big, squishy cheeks.
They don’t get to watch these boys build museums and castles and railways together. They don’t get to see them chase each other in their Star Wars fantasies. They don’t get to eat Brennan’s Saturday morning French toast or my killer chicken pot pie. They don’t get to see our baby girl kick and jump and squeal with glee when her brothers approach.
Brennan and I are almost always tired. We’re often worn thin, overwhelmed, frustrated with our kids – but in them we also find our greatest joy.
We delight in these children, and they delight in us and in each other.
So when you see us out and about, wrestling with a stroller or a car seat or a child, don’t pity us too much. Don’t think those brief moments of struggle or stress or embarrassment are accurate representations of our lives. The kids are alright. (And the parents are too.)
This post is the third in a series called Everyday Bravery: A Write 31 Days Challenge. Every day this month I’m publishing a blog post on Everyday bravery – not the heroic kind, not the kind that involves running into a burning building or overcoming some incredible hardship. Rather, the kinds of bravery that you and I can undertake in our real, regular lives. To see the full list of posts in the series, please check out its introduction.
I’m also linking this post to Bobbi’s (of Revolution of Love) Weekly Writing in October link-up. Check it out to find other bloggers who are trying to get back into the writing groove this month.
Interested in coming along with me as I share stories about my family and chew on the topics of motherhood, politics, and society? Like These Walls on Facebook or follow the blog via email. (Click the link on the sidebar to the right.) You can also follow me on Twitter and Instagram and you can find me at my politics blog at the Catholic Review, called The Space Between.
2 thoughts on “The Kids Are Alright (And the Parents Are Too)”
We had a meltdown of epic proportions at the beginning of our weekly grocery trip yesterday – all because my son wanted a “fun” grocery cart. Needless to say, I appreciated the one mom who, as she walked by (while my son screeched on the bench) said, “Isn’t this fun?”
And, I agree with your last picture – the kids are alright, and I was alright, too! (In fact, I had to hide my laughter as I carried him out of the store at one point, because of just how ridiculous I’m sure the scene looked.) Thank you for this post – I needed to read it today!! I wish those that judged us by how we look in public could see us all the time – sometimes we truly are beautiful, hot messes!
I couldn’t help but smile at this. My little guys aren’t toddlers anymore (my youngest is 5) but I STILL get comments like this even when they are relatively behaved. I will say that there is a light at the end of the tunnel and it gets easier taking your kids out in public as they get older. It’s still chaotic at home but, as you stated, there is far more happy to outweigh the struggle. 🙂 Thanks for linking up!