“You handle that so well,” remarked a friend, observing me manage yet another meltdown from my spirited 6-year-old with ADHD in a composed tone, as if I were on display. “It’s okay to feel upset, sweetie,” I reassured, adding, “Do you want a big hug? How about we have a snack together?”
“I don’t know how you manage,” she sighed.
I chuckled and replied, “I’m much better at this when there are onlookers.”
When you see me in public, you encounter my persona, Social Mom. Social Mom is always equipped with healthy snacks and tiny, reusable water bottles instead of juice boxes. Her children are dressed in outfits that, while not identical, at least coordinate in color or theme. They help out by carrying their own items, and their life jackets are securely fastened before they hit the water. Social Mom listens intently to her 4-year-old’s jumbled words, using phrases like, “I understand,” and “I’m sorry you’re feeling that way.” She can handle tantrums with the poise of a zen master.
You might find yourself envying Social Mom.
What you don’t realize is that to portray this version of myself, my other side—Home Mom—had to make a pit stop for fast-food chicken nuggets on the way to the playdate, leaving the minivan cluttered with trash and remnants from previous outings, all of which she neglected to clean after her partner’s gentle nudge. Those nuggets and milkshakes guaranteed at least some compliance from my rowdy crew. At least they had protein, right?
In the comfort of home, Home Mom doesn’t bother with reusable bottles. The kids start with juice in cups, and when they ask for refills, I shout for them to get water themselves because I’m too occupied doing the million things moms do—cleaning, picking up toys, and even untangling gum from hair. Organic snacks? Not a chance. Instead, they sneak into the kitchen and cut open Fritos like they’re performing surgery, scattering crumbs all over the couch as they binge-watch Star Wars: The Phantom Menace, which isn’t exactly the best choice.
The kids don’t help Home Mom as they do Social Mom. When I ask them to tidy up, they collapse to the floor like defeated animals, wailing about the futility of cleaning. In an instant, my calm demeanor vanishes, and I lecture them about how much I do for them and how they shouldn’t consider it a waste of time. My soft words get replaced with a stern, nearly unhinged tone: “If you think that’s a waste of time, then you need to stop whining and start cleaning before I really lose it.”
I threaten to take their toys away, but that doesn’t work either. Finally, I end up helping them clean, even though I don’t have the time. Somehow, we manage to pick up enough to keep me from stepping on LEGO pieces.
Home Mom has no patience for tantrums. While Social Mom tries to encourage deep breaths, my kids scream, “I HATE DEEP BREATHS!” When that fails, I suggest we “pop mad bubbles,” but they scream again: “I HATE POPPING MAD BUBBLES!” So, I know that approach is pointless.
When the drama unfolds, Home Mom walks away. The kids follow because, naturally, they need an audience for their tantrums. I find myself watering my plants outside while a tiny person screams behind me, praying the neighbors don’t hear. Social Mom maintains a soothing voice; Home Mom’s tone is more like that of someone you wouldn’t dare cross.
Home Mom lives in comfy pants and only dresses up when venturing into public. The kids believe my black pants are some sort of special mom uniform. Social Mom, on the other hand, is always put together, with flawless lipstick and polished nails. It’s possible her children also never have chipped nail polish. Their haircuts are neat and require styling products.
Home Mom’s kids are far from polite. They demand things like, “I WANT CEREAL!” or “BRING ME A DRINK!” and “PUT ON OCTONAUTS NOW!” Social Mom’s kids are trained to use manners; they say “please.” If they don’t, I sing, “What do we say?” In contrast, Home Mom either ignores the demands or gives in with a defeated sigh. Social Mom would never tolerate this behavior. There would be a quiet chat and an apology that ends with hugs and high-fives.
In a way, Social Mom is superior to Home Mom. We all tend to be better parents when we know others are watching—yes, even judging us. Sometimes, this judgment can feel intrusive, especially when it comes to how we feed our babies or the parenting choices we make. However, sometimes that audience can be a good thing.
Having people around can make you feel like a rock star when handling meltdowns. You receive compliments on your kids’ manners and hear remarks like, “I wish I remembered my kids’ reusable bottles.” Yes, you really do, thinks Social Mom. She feels capable, energized, and ready to tackle the day ahead.
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In summary, we often find ourselves performing our best parenting when we feel observed, as we strive to present an ideal version of ourselves to the outside world. Both sides of parenting exist within us, and while we may feel more put together in public, it’s essential to embrace the realities of home life, too.