Confessions and lessons

I am still trying to get my head around the playground incident today.  I’m still trying to determine whether I did right or wrong by keeping my mouth shut.

Confessions:

#1:  My son is a pretty rambunctious four-year-old.  He can be rough and tumble and swear he has an almost unlimited supply of energy.  (As my sister describes it, he is either completely off or completely on.)  I don't make excuses.  He's tough.  We are constantly working on paying attention, considering others, slowing down, etc., etc., etc.  He is also a pretty introverted kid.  While he loves his friends (hugs and kisses for everyone!) and enjoys playing with them, he is equally likely to announce that he “just wants to play by himself.”  We are constantly working on boundaries.  Yes, you can play by yourself.  No, you can’t shove the other kid away.  Yes, you can say, “I don’t want to play right now.”  No, you can’t growl or roar at the other kid.

#2: I’m a pretty laid back parent.  I don’t follow my kids around the playground.  I may read or chat with another similarly-minded parent while the kids are playing.  I keep an eye out and have an idea where they are, but I don’t hover, direct their play, or interfere unless I see them doing something harmful or dangerous or mean to another child.

#3: I expect other parents to discipline my kids, not to the exclusion of me doing it, mind you, but when they see something I don’t, they should feel free to immediately chasten or command or send them to me.  If I see another child doing something harmful or dangerous or mean, you better bet your boots I tell them to stop, and I expect other parents to do the same to my kids.  I’m not the type of parent who will yell at you for disciplining my child for something I don’t witness.  I’ll thank you.  Honestly, it took me several years as a parent to realize that there even WERE other parents who didn’t operate this way.

So, I wasn’t sure how to handle the mom today who came over and very sharply told me I needed to supervise my child.  Apparently, he wanted to have the small play structure to himself and was expressing that wish by pushing other kids off and pulling hair.  Not ok.  He was racing the mom coming to berate me; he knew he was in trouble.  I pulled him out of play for a time-out, and we discussed the rules for staying at the playground:  equipment has to be shared because it’s a park for everyone;  no pushing or pulling hair or mean behavior of any kind is acceptable.  “But I want to play alone” isn’t an excuse because there are other places to play alone.  After about five minutes on the bench, I set him free, and he ran off chastened but happy to go play by himself on the hill.  I wish that was the end of the story. 

As he got out of earshot, I could hear the other mom – standing maybe 20 feet from me – telling her child “Stay away from that boy.  He’s a bad kid.  He pushes and pulls hair.”   Not briefly but on and on and on and loudly.  I resisted the urge to say, “I can hear you” because I’m pretty sure that was the point.  She was clearly trying to send a message to me that I was a bad mom and my child was a bad kid.  I guess maybe I was supposed to scream at him or spank him or make him leave the park instead of quietly disciplining him and returning him to play, and I guess she thinks it’s ok for an adult to call a four-year-old child names and to teach her child that bad behavior makes someone a bad person, not someone having a bad moment.

The thing is, I have been in her shoes.  My kids have been on the receiving end of bad behavior from other kids.  But here’s the other thing, per confession #2 above, I tell my kids that they need to work it out or just go play elsewhere, that maybe that kid is having a bad day and they should just steer clear.  And per confession #3 above, if I see the behavior, I tell the other kid to stop.  I don’t go yell at the other parent.  Because maybe they are reading a book or having a chat or just taking a break from having a rambunctious four-year-old climbing on them.  I don’t mind.  And I certainly don't start telling my kids or anyone else that the offending kid is a bad kid.

And now I’m mad.  At myself.  Because I feel like I should have said something instead of saying nothing.  I loathe confrontation.  My son didn’t hear these hurtful comments, so I just sat and said nothing.  But I did hear them, and I feel like I didn’t stand up for my kid or myself.  And now I think, who’s to say that this other mom won’t feel free to share her judgments on other kids who make a bad behavior choice?   Why should she go around labeling kids as “the bad kid” and teaching her kids to do so as well? 

So, I will do what I do so well as the non-confrontational introvert that I am:  I will write about it and think about it and maybe get a little teary about it and then I will resolve to share what I have written about my experience.  Because maybe other parents will recognize themselves in this situation – maybe they see a little bit of me in themselves or maybe they see a little bit of the other mom in themselves – and maybe they’ll be a little braver and bolder about speaking up or a little kinder and less judgmental with a kid who was showing his ass like mine was.

Don't Dis the Playdate

I read this blog as a result of a friend’s Facebook share:  http://www.dadncharge.com/2014/07/banish-playdate.html?m=1.  It got me thinking.  I had several responses pop into my head, a number of them pretty snarky, so I’ll try to clean them up here, both in terms of organization and niceties.

1.  When children are very small, playdates are about the parents, not about the children.  And that’s ok.  Let’s face it, three-month-olds don’t use the phone and they don’t ride bikes.  They don’t care if there are other babies nearby, much less if said babies want to play.  The fact is that parents of little children often need an outlet.  Some need adult conversation because they are at home all day with little people who babble nonsense words.  Some work full- or part-time and appreciate the opportunity to talk to other people who are in the same situation, people who actually WANT to hear about their precious bambino blowing spit bubbles when she smiles or having diaper issues or getting gas after eating squash.  Or whatever.  The point is, it’s not about the kids.  And the adults who it IS about need that time together.  For whatever reason. 

2.  Even though those kids are very small and it is all about the parents, those early playdates can lead to the creation of lifelong friendships.  My best friend for my whole life is Rachael.  We grew up next door to each other.  But we became friends because our similarly situated mothers (who are just night and day in personalities) liked each other and hung out.  Sure, later, we had access to phones and bikes, but, initially, we were friends because our moms were.  And forty years later (man, that makes me a little teary), we are STILL friends.  Similarly, when you ask my kids who their friends are, the ones that top the list consistently are the ones they have known forever.  Because I set up playdates before they were old enough to pick up a phone or ride a bike.  (Yes, they have what I call “friends of the moment” – friends from their class or from camp or from meeting at the park – and sometimes those friends  become long-term friends.)

3.  Frankly, I think this dad is waxing all nostalgic for a time that didn’t exist for many of us.  Maybe he grew up with the ideal suburban childhood with friends around every cul-de-sac or corner.  But not every parent had that childhood.  I certainly don’t have much nostalgia for spontaneous play with all my friends.  Remember Rachael?  Yeah, she was also my ONLY friend who lived near enough to do spontaneous play.  I grew up in the sticks.  If I wanted to see any of my other friends, guess what?  I had to pester my mom to call their mom to set up a time.  Because even though we could use phones and bikes, we couldn’t DRIVE.  Because they lived miles and miles away.  Down state highways (one fondly referred to as “Death Road”).

So, sure, let your kids have spontaneous play as much as they can.  I love it when my kids have pick-up play with neighbors, and I regularly point to the front or back yard and send them on their way to engage in hours of self-entertainment (or really, since there are two of them, in hours of mutual entertainment).  But don’t dis the playdate.

Alone vs. Lonely

Contrary to what you might think, traveling solo can be not so great for an introvert.  “What?” you say.  “I thought introverts loved being alone.”

Hang on a second.  I am a bona fide introvert.  But let me be clear about what that means.  Do I like being alone?  Sometimes.  Do I like being lonely?  No!

Like most introverts, I’m not shy.  I’m not a loner.  I like people.  I can be very, very chatty.  However… I like my interactions to be with one person or maybe a few people at a time.  An evening in a room full of people at a party?  Blech – feels like a slog that I have to make, makes me feel exhausted.   An evening all by myself?  Nice, every once in a while.  An evening in a pub with a couple of close friends?  Bingo! 

When I travel alone, I often feel surrounded by strangers, like I’m at that party where I must interact with lots of people… or no one.  Not a good feeling, let me tell you.  Where an extrovert may find herself feeling energized by the presence of lots of people and the opportunity to meet and chat with new people, I often find myself feeling a little anxious, a little lost, and a little depressed.  I need people, just not a lot of them, and I definitely need MY people!

I was feeling a little that way this morning while at a conference, which I have been looking forward to and am very excited to attend.  Sitting in the lobby trying to figure out what to do next, I was struck by how much I was NOT enjoying myself.  So many strange faces walking by.  Nothing familiar.  I wished that my husband or a good friend were there for me to chat with, someone to make me feel not so … lonely.  But then, I saw a familiar face and ran into some folks I know and like.  We chatted, and, all of a sudden, I felt more calm, more at ease.

I am now "charging my battery" up in my home-away-from-home hotel room while I wait for the next meetings to start.  Alone, sure, but not lonely!