Got Perspective?

(If you're not a parent, this post might offend you.  I'd apologize, but it wouldn't be sincere.)

Recently I was listening to a popular local radio station, which in and of itself is a bizarre occurrence.  I'm highly resistant to change, and what's popular in music is constantly shifting.  It makes my head want to explode.  For some reason that morning I had it on, and like every other radio station in the morning, they talk more than they play.  This particular station has a bit where people call in to complain about whatever, but that day... that day had a THEME.

Hey nonparents, call in to complain about crap parents do.

Are you kidding me?

I was stunned.  I couldn't listen, for the safety of the people who were going to deal with me on that day, I had to turn the radio off.  Here's the thing: complaining is ok.  Venting about a situation or someone that was rude TO you.  But to complain about something you have absolutely NO perspective on?  I could understand calling in to say there was this child who wasn't being watched that knocked over your tray at a restaurant/ran into you/caused chaos.  The key here is how it affected you.  I took a deep breath and assumed that would be all the complaints they received.

Ignorance is surely bliss, because if I wouldn't have checked out their Facebook page ten minutes later I probably wouldn't be writing this post now.

The complaints ran the gambit from "Quit using child leashes" to "Talk about something besides your kid".  Please, someone tell me how another parent using a restraint on HIS/HER child affects your life? If my husband and I weren't socially awkward hermits and were more often in public places, N would've probably been a leash baby.  She has no fear, she isn't concerned at all if we're not nearby and she WILL wander off without a word.  In a crowded space, this could be problematic.  Enter: a device that keeps you connected to your child at all times.  That, my friends, is peace of mind.  When it comes to your kids, peace of mind is everything.

The days before we considered a leash.

Which brings me to another favorite:  "Stop telling us we don't understand because we aren't parents."  I'm sure when some parents say this phrase or variants of it to nonparents, it can seem condescending and rude.  Different people = different intonations.  The plain truth is, however, that you simply can't know what kind of parent you'll be until you ARE a parent.  No one can know what they would do in big, complicated scenarios until faced with them.  So when you try to tell a mom/dad how they should be carrying out punishments/feeding their kid/buckling them into a carseat, you might see how this could incite the response you find so condescending.  How do you think you're making that parent feel, the one who might already be embarrassed about her child's behavior or feeling awkward about being approached/openly judged on his/her parenting skills?  It's distasteful enough when moms(dads) judge other moms(dads), for no two children are the same, and no one's life is identical, so none of us knows just how another's child should be raised.  But if you've never had a 2-year-old little girl scream in your face because you took the ball away, at decibels that could make your ears bleed in the middle of Target at 6pm (when everyone else has decided to go to Target too), and you have to take that little girl home and hopefully try and teach her why her reaction was wrong and mold her into a calmer/more patient human being... well, I'd ask that you please don't complain about how I'm handling the situation as long as it isn't causing harm to your physical person.  (Ok, if you're ears bled that night and you're reading this now, you know my email address, go ahead and contact me.)

Yep, my six month old N "eating" a marshmallow.    Judge me.

The weight of the world is on our shoulders (x2 or x3 or x4, 5, 6), the future belongs to the generations of children we're raising, that is probably freaking us out enough (I know I have mini panic attacks weekly).  We'd prefer not to add outside judgement on top of that.

This leads me to "Find something else to talk about, besides your kids", a close relative of "Please stop posting pictures of your kids on Facebook all the time".

My mind?  Blown.  Hold on, before I get into this, let me post ANOTHER picture of my kids.

For the viewing pleasure of all the nonparents who may be reading.

Ok, onward.  I could talk about work, but if I start talking about that then it inevitably leads to questions of how I manage to work overnights and take care of my kids during the day, how hard it is to be away from them ever, how taking care of the elderly is like taking care of kids.  I could talk about school, but that leads to conversations of how I do homework with my daughter at night, how I'm hoping all this time I spend away is inspiring them to become the best people THEY can be just as I am doing everything I can to make a better life for us now.

Or I could talk about how I run and box, but that would of course lead to discussing how I find honing my fight-or-flight skills in the face of the impending zombie apocalypse vital to my family's survival.  

Passing that running torch on.

My point is, everything I do, every single little thing in my life, every atom of every molecule of every cell in my body has been repurposed from living my life to giving them life.  

They are the sun to my orbit, responsibility ties me to them like gravity, and the intense love that pervades all aspects of our lives is the theoretical dark matter that holds us together.  My family is my universe.

The response is, "You shouldn't lose your identity when you become a mom."  I haven't.  It has enhanced me.  In teaching them to be individuals, I model individuality.  But even the simple act of making sure to be "me" everyday is aimed at creating proud and unique adults out of the children in front of me.  How am I supposed to talk about something different, but relevant to my life, when the fabric of my existence is 100% intertwined with theirs?  The only thing I can do is stay silent.

And come on.  Who DOESN'T want to see pictures of something this stinkin' cute?

Ok, fine.  I'm partial.  But you post pictures on the daily of your food, your pets, your cars, your alcoholic beverages, your house, your plants, your clothes.  You post pictures of things that are important to you.  Sorry, nothing in my life is as awesome as my kids, so I've got nothing else to show you.  That is, unless you want to see a picture of my Nightmare Before Christmas nesting dolls or my halloween shelf in the kitchen.  We want to present the world with what we believe is representative of the most important bits of who we are.  That happens to be my daughters.  They have shaped me into who I am right now, and we will continue shaping each other into our future selves until the end of our time, and I pray that we will leave a legacy that inspires our children's children's children to be the best they can be as well.

Continue the AWESOME future great-grandbabies!

So, no, nonparents.  I don't feel like you have any ground to stand on when it comes to complaining about what we're doing with our kids.  There's a "hide from wall" function on Facebook, there's a polite way to step away from conversations you have no interest in, and if you want to discuss what you will NEVER do as a parent, then consider having that talk with your friends who also don't have children if you don't want to hear how your lack of real perspective might be skewing your opinion in a certain direction.

As for me?  Don't friend me on Facebook, because I think I'm going to go post some pictures of my toddler in her diaper and hair all disheveled with chocolate adorning her flushed cheeks.  Because it's freakin' cute, that's why.