Let me clarify right from the start that I do not identify as an overly strict parent. My children are allowed to watch television, and occasionally, I permit them to indulge in snacks that might even glow in the dark. I don’t possess a competitive nature, nor do I concern myself with how others choose to raise their children. What I do prioritize are good manners, ensuring my kids leave the house clean, nourished, and (for the most part) content. That’s about as close to perfection as it gets on most days.
In my pre-parenting days, and even in the early stages of motherhood, I was quite reserved. However, these days, I find myself occasionally engaging in conflicts with strangers.
When I had just my first son, I was constantly apologizing for his behavior. If he cried in public, I’d spend an inordinate amount of time trying to make eye contact with those around us, expressing my regrets for any disruption he caused. I should have focused on comforting him instead, which likely would have diminished his distress. I would explain to complete strangers the reasons for his tears, assuring them that he was a wonderful baby. Looking back, I cringe at my past parenting style. After all, babies cry.
Then along came my first daughter, which made things more complex. Managing two young children in public can be challenging and sometimes incredibly embarrassing. Both kids developed a knack for asking awkward questions and competing in a “We Must Lay on the Floor and Scream Until We Turn Blue” routine whenever we were about to leave a fun place. This significantly decreased my concern about what others thought.
“Oh dear! Are they tired?” “No, just acting up.” “Have you tried [insert irrelevant advice]?”
My pre-second-baby self would have engaged politely. Now, I simply respond with, “No.”
With the arrival of my third child, a second daughter, I was introduced to an entirely new level of unsolicited advice and public interference. My youngest has a flair for dramatic outbursts, complete with screaming, kicking, and wild flailing. (We once had her referred to a pediatrician to rule out unusual seizures during one of her meltdowns. Thankfully, she was fine, but the doctor did commend her impressive stamina.) My toddler has tested my patience beyond what both her siblings combined ever did.
The unsolicited interest from strangers regarding how I manage my tantrum-throwing toddler has reached unprecedented levels. It’s essential to note that this behavior is typically exhibited by a specific type of individual (a category I admit to having belonged to at some point). I’m not referring to those supportive souls who nod in understanding; I mean the eye-rollers and the “Oh dear!” crowd.
During a recent six-hour train ride with my three children, ages 6, 3, and 2 (yes, six hours), my youngest had a single tantrum. The train was packed, and we had to squeeze into two seats while she wanted to walk up the aisle and interact with other passengers. There simply wasn’t enough space.
Suddenly, she erupted into an explosive fit—a mixture of shrieking and sobbing that intensified in the cramped environment. She struck me in the face with her board book and increased the volume of her wails, while I attempted to soothe her without directly confronting her (which only escalates her distress). Even my older children looked embarrassed.
Out of nowhere, a woman in her 50s, short and urgent, pushed her way through the crowded carriage to reach us. She crouched down, bringing her face close to my daughter’s, and with no regard for me, she shushed her with a pointed finger. Only after this did she look at me, her jaw set, and shout, “That’s enough!”
Before I could fully process the situation, my older daughter, who lacks any sense of decorum, boldly declared, “Don’t yell at my sister,” and pointed at me, asserting, “That’s her job.”
She was correct. Until children reach school age or are old enough to understand proper behavior in public—around 20 years old, perhaps—no one except me and my partner has the right to discipline our children. It’s possible that I might not appear to manage the situation well, and at times, I might seem indifferent to my children’s disruptive behavior (and I’ll admit, there are moments when I truly am).
The woman left as quickly as she had come, leaving me in shock, my child still wailing and my two older ones looking perplexed. I had to decide whether to lose my composure on the train, exacerbating the embarrassment, or to let it slide and file it under “Couldn’t care less.” Just as I was leaning toward the latter, a lady across the aisle tapped my shoulder and said, “Sorry, not trying to interfere, but would you like my seat? I’m getting off in 20 minutes, and it seems like you could use it more than I can.”
At that moment, I felt like crying. I was grateful I hadn’t unleashed all my thoughts about the Shusher, recognizing that my choice to remain calm had transformed me into the wronged yet resilient protagonist in my own story.
So, the next time you feel the urge to apologize for your child’s outburst, or if someone rudely intervenes, take a deep breath. Remember that the supportive individuals outnumber the rude ones by a significant margin.
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In summary, parenting can often lead to unsolicited advice from well-meaning strangers, especially when dealing with the tumultuous behavior of young children. While it’s easy to feel overwhelmed or embarrassed, it’s essential to focus on your own parenting style and respond to your children with patience and understanding. Ultimately, the support of kind individuals can make a significant difference.