Hi. I'd like to introduce myself. I'm the woman in the grocery store with the screaming child. The child who loudly swears up and down that he will do anything I say if I just get him that toy he wants, and in the same breath screams that he hates me and I'm stupid. Yes, that's me. Nice to meet you.
My son (I adore him) is a brilliant young man. He's smart and funny and creative, but he's got a will of iron, especially when he fixates on something he wants. He would climb electric fences, battle alligators (I pity them) and swim through molten lava to get the object of his desire, especially when it has been denied him for bad behavior. This has made shopping with him a bit of a nightmare. Most grocery stores (bless them) have goodies and toys scattered throughout the aisles. Maybe they are for the benefit of good little children with good mommies who say gently, "Look sweetie! If you are very good for mommy, mommy will get you this wonderful foam dart-gun. It looks so fun! You'll be good for mommy, won't you?" And a neatly groomed, wide-eyed child, his halo practically glowing, nods submissively and proceeds to walk like a well-trained pet at the side of his mother as she peacefully peruses the aisles, taking as much time as she desires to analyze cans and boxes for their nutritional content so she can feed her loving family only the very best.
OR are they a punishment sent by the grocery gods to tempt and torment little boys and girls and their frazzled, unprepared mothers who dared to bring their uncouth offspring inside the walls of their culinary shrine? I'm convinced it's the latter. This trip was a case in point as my boy was eager to demonstrate to the dozens of startled shoppers, trying to inconspicuously wheel their way along the far side of the aisle past the frenzy of screams and threats and punches.
I was grateful to be having this experience in the comfort of big-family territory, where children are a little more common if not all as challenging as mine. Back in New Jersey I squirmed beneath the stares when I had to make shopping runs with all 4 children in tow and running amok, especially with me in sweats, no makeup, and unwashed hair pulled back in an unbecoming ponytail. I could feel their piteous desire to direct me to the family planning aisle or hand me the business card for their favorite nanny agency. The tolerance for children, even well-behaved ones, seems to be subsiding in an alarming manner. I would wager that most of the disapproving stares I got back east were from people with no children and perhaps no experience providing child care in any form whatsoever. Here I get a little more sympathy, but on days like this I still feel the eye of judgment frowning upon me and labels of "bad mother" stamped across my conscious.
I have to say, though, that I was proud of myself for keeping my cool. With the help of several silent prayers, I didn't buckle in to the pressure of my screaming child and give him what he wanted just to shut him up. Nor did I over-react and try to prove to the onlookers that I was the one in control. I calmly and firmly stood my ground, defended my position, and reminded him that boys who scream at and hit their mothers can not have toys.
After the melt-down over the toy subsided, we had another over candy at the checkout stand. This translated into a grab-and-throw episode which left my carton of eggs as a casualty of the war. A saintly woman (clearly a mother) went and bought me a new carton. By the time she returned, I was wrestling my son into the car while another kind store employee loaded in my groceries. I could barely manage a "Thank-you!" between the grappling and tugging and pushing, but I made it as genuine and gratitude-filled as possible. As she walked back into the store to enjoy her peaceful, unaccompanied shopping trip, I longed to give her a big hug and some kind of a gift in return. She was my angel. So, whomever you are, thank you again! Thank you for understanding and stepping in to help. I hope I get to do the same someday.
There are two main things I love about this quote. First of all, the idea that kids are getting enough ugliness in the world around them, so that increases our duty to make our homes a safe haven from such things. Secondly, this quote really hit home because quite honestly, bedtime in the Bayles household tends to be one of the most stressful times of the day! Our kids (as is typical) are highly active and have a very hard time settling down at night. There is often a battle of wills, and we, the parents, make repeated trips up the stairs to reprimand for talking, playing, running around, fighting, and anything but the task they were supposed to complete: falling asleep. But this quote brought to my attention something we have been leaving out: we haven't been tucking them in. Perhaps it has been ever since we moved into a house where all the kids' rooms are upstairs, but our usual routine after family prayer and scriptures has been to send them up to bed on their own. After reading this quote, I suddenly realized that the simple act of going up with them, helping them brush teeth, say their own prayers, settle them down and especially tucking them in would make a world of difference. Maybe you already do that, but do you realize how significant that is? How calming and comforting for your children? I have made a resolution to do that, and in the few days I have done it I have already felt a change.
