| What Other People Think of Me is None of my Business |
| Written by Margie Slagter | ||||||||
| Wednesday, 03 March 2010 18:49 | ||||||||
 I have walked the floor of the supermarket with a screaming two-year-old in tow many a time. I am a veteran of these momentous occasions. It’s amazing just how much shopping you can do in record time when needs must. I have tried cajoling, I have tried bribing, but overall it really doesn’t seem to make much difference. The tantrum may or may not end and the shopping needs to be done. People stare, comment, offer a smack, offer advice. They tsk, cluck, shake their heads.I have shopped when other parents have a screaming toddler in tow and felt a tremendous amount of relief that it’s not me on that occasion, and also a sense of kinship with another struggling human being. There are definitely times when it would be good to be like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz and tap those ruby red slippers together, because there really is no place like home. Once, while standing in line at the Medicare office, I remember a particularly badly behaved child running amuck up and down the length and breadth of the office. As I waited, the customer directly in front of me, currently being served, was discussing quite loudly with the Medicare worker how naughty the child was. They both agreed it was terrible and something should be done. I looked around, wondering where the child’s parents were. Finishing the transaction, the woman, who moments before had been so firm on what needed to be done with this wayward toddler, thanked the Medicare lady, turned, picked up the child and walked out. Tantrums are not, however, the exclusive cause of embarrassment for parents. I was in the womanly department of the supermarket one morning, with my little son along for the ride. We were right in the middle of the pads and tampons aisle when he yelled at the top of his voice: “They’re the ones I like. Those ones. They’re the ones!” He was pointing at a display of pads and tampons and I was so embarrassed that my dear little son had drawn a vast amount of attention on us, right at this moment in our shopping trip. I heard the sniggers of our fellow shoppers and acknowledged the humour of the situation, but being the optimist I am, I looked more closely at the display. There, right in the middle of the feminine hygiene products, was a tiny packet of Mickey Mouse bandaids. Go figure. Embarrassment is par for the course of a parent. No-one can tell you how much you will wish the floor could open up and swallow you when your three year old, sitting on a crowded train, leans over to you and says in a very loud voice: “Why does that man have a lady’s haircut.” Of course the man she is talking about is a huge biker with tattoos and long greasy hair. Nor can they tell you how badly you will feel when the same child, in their honest inquisitiveness, once again asks very loudly: “Why is that big, fat lady so big and fat?” Naturally those moments can only be surpassed by the equally hideous ones, such as having a small person in tow when you visit the lady’s room and they feel compelled to give a running commentary of your bodily functions. “Are you doing a poo? You need to do a wee?” There is no such thing as discretion when you have a small child along for the ride. They are quite happy to let all and sundry know that, “Mummy did a fart!” Remaining positive is the key to surviving these tumultuous moments. Every parent who ever lived can share similar stories involving their offspring. My mother likes to share stories of how I pushed the emergency stop button on the train while she and my sister slept peacefully, completely unaware. When the guard came to see what the emergency was, I asked for a drink of milk and some biscuits. Relieved that there was no real emergency, he dutifully brought me my bequest and I polished off the last biscuit and happily went back to sleep, just in time for my sister to wake up a find she had missed the party. On one other occasion, Mum took us to Mass and, half-way through the service a little voice could be heard, coming from the back of the church in the baptismal font area, singing: “This is the way we wash our hands, wash our hands, wash our hands.” I did indeed have very clean hands, needless to say. My cousin likes to say, “What other people think of me is none of my business,” and I have decided to embrace this motto as my own. You cannot survive the early years, or for that matter later years, of your children’s lives without this kind of encouragement. The tsks and disapproving shakes of the head will wipe you out before you even reach the freezer section of the supermarket, day one of the campaign, if you take them to heart. People easily forget how difficult it can be to maneuver your way through the obstacle course of early childhood and all the perils of that era. It’s so easy to be judgmental and disapproving but sometimes a knowing smile or a word of kindness can make all the difference in a jungle that is wild and woolly at the best of times. Parenthood is tough. Now if you will excuse me I need to go shopping, but first I need to find my ruby slippers.
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Comments (2)
jodiemac
said:
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... One day you will have to take your little ones into the toilet cubicle with you when you are out in public. Be aware that their voices become strangely amplified by the tiled walls. "Why have your got your old holey undies on today Mummy?" Ah, the embarassment factor of motherhood.They don't tell you that in antenatal classes! |
nessa1
said:
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thank you this article made me remember that every one was a child once i too am one of those parens that r greatful whe its some one elses child but i also smile at them becase i know people can be cruel in their judgments  |
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