Village Mom

"It takes a village to raise a child." - African Proverb -

Okay, we've already established that I like children. In fact, I like most children a lot more than I like many adults. What I'm finding hard to handle as I age, is bratty children. Running through stores, tugging at clothes on the rack, screaming, whining and using profanity are all behaviors I'm getting less good at tolerating.

I remember having a young child who, though basically well behaved, did have his moments. There was a day when Jacob was about two. He had a total meltdown in the grocery store. I took him out of the cart, pushed the cart to a corner and took Jacob home. I had to wait for Merv to get home to take over supervision of Jacob before I could return to the store, reclaim my cart and proceed with my shopping. I didn't take Jacob to the grocery store again for a very long time. Grocery shopping wasn't Jacob's thing and when forced to go, he reacted like an unhappy child. Fair enough. I didn't want to make him unhappy or inflict his out-of-control behavior on anyone else in the store. It was easier on Jacob, easier on me and easier on all the other shoppers in the store.

I can mostly cope with the tantrums of two-year-olds. I have a lot more trouble with six, seven and eight-year-olds. These children are certainly old enough to be able to behave better. It is not even really the kids that push my buttons, it is their parents who are somehow oblivious to the antics of their kids. They allow the behavior to carry on without intervention or notice. Do they really feel no obligation to help their children develop the basic social skills that will serve them well in the world? What happened to instilling the manners that help us all to function as a civilized society?

What has changed for me isn't just that my tolerance is waning but that my ability to stay quiet about misbehavior is changing. Lately I find myself telling badly behaved children (and even the occasional teenager) that their behavior is unacceptable. I've told them to quiet down, watch their language, stop running, stop hitting and even to "get a room" when they were doing heavy petting in a public place (that would be the teenagers). I've stopped caring if their seemingly oblivious parents are within earshot. Their apparent disregard for my comfort, safety and enjoyment have removed my concern about embarrassing them or hurting their parental feelings. I am the first to offer a hand to a frazzled mom or a parent who is working to deal with an unruly child. I don't judge them for the child's behavior or assume they are bad parents or even that they have bad children. Every child has his day. It is the parents who take no steps to intervene for whom I reserve my disdain.

There are those who tell me I need to mind my own business. That it is not my place to correct other people's kids. They may be right. For now though, I'm going with the African proverb and claiming my role as a mother in the global village.