Sometimes I Feel Bare-Assed, Too

Right on the heels of reading @PrincessJenn’s response to this post on the Blogher site, and reading Maria Melee’s post on Aiming Low, I took my children out into public.

It’s something I do occasionally, and it doesn’t always go well. This was one of those times.

We were at the library, because my 4 year old daughter had worked very hard at being good all week. And she asked for a trip to the library for new books. While we there, her 2 year old brother decided to have a fit of massive proportions. So we quickly headed to check out, and leave.

As we pulled away, my daughter started crying. When she finally calmed down enough to tell me what was wrong, she told me, “Mommy, I can NEVER go back to the library! He was so sassy, and I just feel very bare-assed!”

Sidenote: I did explain, with stifled giggles, that she meant EMBARRASSED in order to avoid public outburts of “bare-assed” in the future!

But what an apt description of how I was feeling in the midst of that melt-down. Like I’d been caught with my pants down, bare ass hanging in the breeze. And we’re lucky enough to have a librarian who is very kid-friendly, and doesn’t flinch at a little noise.

I know many parents have been there. Many parents have felt that “bare-assed” feeling. There was a time span of about 6 months where I refused to go grocery shopping, alone, with the two of them. Because it constantly left me feeling bare-assed.

That time span I affectionately referred to as “Grocery Store Hell”? It gave me a slightly different perspective. While I knew, logically, that you can’t always control your kids’ behavior, prior to GSH, I thought that things like redirection with snacks and toys, time outs, and rewards for good behavior could resolve most fits.

Yeah. Apparently, not so much. It was a very humbling experience, to be forced to walk a mile in the shoes of those parents I had, occasionally, found myself shaking my head at. Not in anger, but definitely in a superior way.  Now? I wouldn’t dream of feeling superior, partly because I don’t want Karma to bite me in quite that way. Ever. Again. And partly because I realize now, that 99.99% of the time, that parent already feels embarrassed and guilty, and generally like crap.

Instead of piling onto that feeling of craptasticness, I’ve decided that sympathy is a better way to go. An understanding smile, a kind word, just a look that says, “Yeah. I know. It happens.” How far will that go towards lifting a frazzled spirit? Towards reassuring a tired parent that they aren’t alone?

Having been there, I’m telling you, it goes a long way. Give it a try sometime.

Until then,

Jen ThePsychobabble.

Slightly Similar Nonsense:

• My Baby Girl is Growing Up
• Parenting Isn’t One Size Fits All
• Things I Swore Never to Say to My Children (that I have totally said)
• Master of Non-Verbal Communication
• Multi-Media-Tasking