A long, long time ago when the kids were much smaller, I came home from a trip to the grocery store and wrote the following status on Facebook "Took two kids to the grocery store and came back with all of my sanity and most of my dignity. Yay me!"
Seems kind of silly that I'd feel the need to share something like that with the world (although, not really when you consider that all of Facebook is just mostly people sharing their non-sequitars with the world). Anyway, that dignity stealing thing was happening a lot more often back then. An exploded diaper in a public place, a tantrum that came out of the blue, a random cheerio stuck to my butt....these were the indignities I suffered many a day when my babes were young. Lately however, the humiliation has slowed. In fact, it darn near stopped and I got comfortable with the idea that I'd be able to go public places with my children without humiliation being a factor. I thought I could count all those uncomfortable memories as things of the past..... and then this week happened. You see how my life works? I get comfortable with something and then The Universe laughs and throws it all in my face. It's like my comfortableness is Charlie Brown and The Universe is my eternal Lucy, ruining my point-scoring kick at the last second, every time.
So, last week one of my children shoplifted. Said child is very embarrassed and humiliated by this (GOOD), so I will refrain from naming this child. Here's what you need to know: we all went to Target to get a present for an upcoming birthday party. While I was checking out, this child apparently took a York Peppermint Patty from the candy stand and shoved it into their pocket. Once home, this child quietly snuck down the hall, chowed the candy, and tried to dispose of the wrapper by flushing it down the toilet. Said child's brain is not developed enough to realize that when flushing evidence, one should stick around to make sure that their giant foil wrapper actually does make the trip all the way down the toilet.
So, a half hour later 9 comes in and reports that there is a giant candy wrapper clogging the toilet. I ask the obvious question, and after some digging and threatening, a sibling comes forward and confesses that they saw this child steal the candy. They add that they didn't tell me because the theif/sibling told them not to. Child vehemently denies accusation. I deal with the fact that I am dealing with one lying thief and one accomplice.
Long story short: I spend the next three hours pulling out every parenting technique I possess to get this child to confess. I reason. I yell. I call Matt, who is gone for the weekend. Child still doesn't confess. Next, I call on The Lord and remind this child of how Jesus feels about thieves and liars. Child still doesn't confess. So finally, I call Target and ask if they can bring up video tape evidence. They can't (or they won't because it's a York Peppermint Patty and not the Hope Diamond.) Child stands by silently and refuses to confess.
Nothing is working. Good Cop, Bad Cop, Catholic guilt (and we're not even Catholic).... this child knows that all evidence is circumstantial and heresy.
So then, I put both children involved in the car (while remaining sibling stays home with 9 and sobs in fear that the siblings will be going to Juvy Hall) and drive the pair back to Target,where, upon confrontation from a uniformed security guard-who is all of 18 years old-,the child confesses straightaway.
I put my hands in my pockets so they don't wrap themselves around my child's neck, which is what they very badly want to do.
The security guard asks my child why he/she took the candy. Child looks at the floor and mumbles "Um, I took it because it tasted so so so good."
The security guard bursts out laughing, and I shoot him my most severe look. I say "Officer," (Yes, I know he wasn't an officer, but since I'm in the process of scaring my kids straight, I'd rather eat boiled scorpions than have them know the difference). "I have two kids here who are thieves and liars. I didn't know I was raising kids like this, and I need to fix it. Please tell them what happens to people when they are caught stealing."
And in that little speech, I lose all dignity. My voice chokes up because I'm angry and exhausted, and when I'm angry and exhausted, I cry. I wish that when I feel angry I could be formidable or even eerily calm, but no. Instead my face gets red and my voice gets wobbly. I watch as two nearby sales associates take quick leave and immediately I know what they see: a hysterical mom who is getting all worked up over a .99 stolen piece of candy. Even the security guard is looking at me like "Get a grip, Polly." So as I'm watching my dignity slowly swirl down the drain, I decide to do what I did in the early days of diaper humiliations and toddler tantrums: I swallow my pride and sit in the humiliation. This is in exchange for the lesson the kids needed to learn. Stealing can not become a habit around here, and frankly, the stealing worries me less than the lying. The extent and steadfastness of the lying bothers me much, much more.
So, the security guard straightens up and tells the kids very seriously what happens when people are caught shoplifting. The child pays for the candy out of his own wallet, and then the security guard asks them if they are going to steal again. They shake their heads no. I thank him and march the kids out of the store with my head held high, even though, to be honest with you, if the earth had decided to open itself up at my feet just then, I would've gladly jumped in.
The universe wasn't done with me yet. Three days after the shoplifting incident, more public humiliation. I'll keep this one short:
Imagine that you are at the mall and you walk by the window of a jewelry store, and in that window, you see a young girl sitting in a chair with her mother close by. You assume that she is there to get her ears pierced. You stop to watch. Her weird mother is trying to mouth something to you... what is it? She's shaking her head and making gestures... is she telling you to go? Humph! It's a free country. You're going to stay and watch this little girl get her ears pierced!
You see the shopgirl approach the girl with a cotton ball. The girl's mother gives up on you and focuses on the girl, who is swatting away the shop girls hand every time she tries to get close to her ear. You see the mom smiling, cajoling, talking quietly to the girl. She's trying to get her to do deep breathing exercises. The girl continues to move her head away and cry. Apparently she doesn't want to get her ears pierced! Why would this mother force her like this? Oh my, it's getting worse! The girl is now loudly crying and the mother has switched her approach. Now she's talking sternly to the girl. The shop girl gestures and the mother is now holding the girls head in both her hands! This is terrible! She practically has the girl in a head lock! You can't watch anymore. With a disgusted look through the window at the terrible mom, you walk away.
That was PG and me, except PG wasn't there to get her ears pierced. She was there because we had thought that the front of her earring had broken off. The shopgirl was trying to remove the post. Once it was clear that PG wasn't going to let her do it, we went to Urgent Care where the doctor informed us that the entire earring had been swallowed up by her earlobe. So she was justified in her pain and swatting. (And yes, we had been cleaning it and turning it every day. In fact, we have picture proof from the day before that both her ear and earring were healthy and visible the day before. She slept on it at a party and woke up with it gone. So who knew?)
So. This has not been one of my better weeks as a mother, because in addition to the thieves and liars living under this roof, you can add child abuser. Me. I feel horrible.
I don't have a clever way of ending this, except to caution the parents out there: don't even let yourself feel comfortable in this job. Dignity and parenting do not go hand in hand. However, days like this do make me believe that parenting and wine do go hand in hand. If I had known what this past week was going to do to me, I would've bought stock in some vineyards.
Seems kind of silly that I'd feel the need to share something like that with the world (although, not really when you consider that all of Facebook is just mostly people sharing their non-sequitars with the world). Anyway, that dignity stealing thing was happening a lot more often back then. An exploded diaper in a public place, a tantrum that came out of the blue, a random cheerio stuck to my butt....these were the indignities I suffered many a day when my babes were young. Lately however, the humiliation has slowed. In fact, it darn near stopped and I got comfortable with the idea that I'd be able to go public places with my children without humiliation being a factor. I thought I could count all those uncomfortable memories as things of the past..... and then this week happened. You see how my life works? I get comfortable with something and then The Universe laughs and throws it all in my face. It's like my comfortableness is Charlie Brown and The Universe is my eternal Lucy, ruining my point-scoring kick at the last second, every time.
So, last week one of my children shoplifted. Said child is very embarrassed and humiliated by this (GOOD), so I will refrain from naming this child. Here's what you need to know: we all went to Target to get a present for an upcoming birthday party. While I was checking out, this child apparently took a York Peppermint Patty from the candy stand and shoved it into their pocket. Once home, this child quietly snuck down the hall, chowed the candy, and tried to dispose of the wrapper by flushing it down the toilet. Said child's brain is not developed enough to realize that when flushing evidence, one should stick around to make sure that their giant foil wrapper actually does make the trip all the way down the toilet.
So, a half hour later 9 comes in and reports that there is a giant candy wrapper clogging the toilet. I ask the obvious question, and after some digging and threatening, a sibling comes forward and confesses that they saw this child steal the candy. They add that they didn't tell me because the theif/sibling told them not to. Child vehemently denies accusation. I deal with the fact that I am dealing with one lying thief and one accomplice.
Long story short: I spend the next three hours pulling out every parenting technique I possess to get this child to confess. I reason. I yell. I call Matt, who is gone for the weekend. Child still doesn't confess. Next, I call on The Lord and remind this child of how Jesus feels about thieves and liars. Child still doesn't confess. So finally, I call Target and ask if they can bring up video tape evidence. They can't (or they won't because it's a York Peppermint Patty and not the Hope Diamond.) Child stands by silently and refuses to confess.
Nothing is working. Good Cop, Bad Cop, Catholic guilt (and we're not even Catholic).... this child knows that all evidence is circumstantial and heresy.
So then, I put both children involved in the car (while remaining sibling stays home with 9 and sobs in fear that the siblings will be going to Juvy Hall) and drive the pair back to Target,where, upon confrontation from a uniformed security guard-who is all of 18 years old-,the child confesses straightaway.
I put my hands in my pockets so they don't wrap themselves around my child's neck, which is what they very badly want to do.
The security guard asks my child why he/she took the candy. Child looks at the floor and mumbles "Um, I took it because it tasted so so so good."
The security guard bursts out laughing, and I shoot him my most severe look. I say "Officer," (Yes, I know he wasn't an officer, but since I'm in the process of scaring my kids straight, I'd rather eat boiled scorpions than have them know the difference). "I have two kids here who are thieves and liars. I didn't know I was raising kids like this, and I need to fix it. Please tell them what happens to people when they are caught stealing."
And in that little speech, I lose all dignity. My voice chokes up because I'm angry and exhausted, and when I'm angry and exhausted, I cry. I wish that when I feel angry I could be formidable or even eerily calm, but no. Instead my face gets red and my voice gets wobbly. I watch as two nearby sales associates take quick leave and immediately I know what they see: a hysterical mom who is getting all worked up over a .99 stolen piece of candy. Even the security guard is looking at me like "Get a grip, Polly." So as I'm watching my dignity slowly swirl down the drain, I decide to do what I did in the early days of diaper humiliations and toddler tantrums: I swallow my pride and sit in the humiliation. This is in exchange for the lesson the kids needed to learn. Stealing can not become a habit around here, and frankly, the stealing worries me less than the lying. The extent and steadfastness of the lying bothers me much, much more.
So, the security guard straightens up and tells the kids very seriously what happens when people are caught shoplifting. The child pays for the candy out of his own wallet, and then the security guard asks them if they are going to steal again. They shake their heads no. I thank him and march the kids out of the store with my head held high, even though, to be honest with you, if the earth had decided to open itself up at my feet just then, I would've gladly jumped in.
The universe wasn't done with me yet. Three days after the shoplifting incident, more public humiliation. I'll keep this one short:
Imagine that you are at the mall and you walk by the window of a jewelry store, and in that window, you see a young girl sitting in a chair with her mother close by. You assume that she is there to get her ears pierced. You stop to watch. Her weird mother is trying to mouth something to you... what is it? She's shaking her head and making gestures... is she telling you to go? Humph! It's a free country. You're going to stay and watch this little girl get her ears pierced!
You see the shopgirl approach the girl with a cotton ball. The girl's mother gives up on you and focuses on the girl, who is swatting away the shop girls hand every time she tries to get close to her ear. You see the mom smiling, cajoling, talking quietly to the girl. She's trying to get her to do deep breathing exercises. The girl continues to move her head away and cry. Apparently she doesn't want to get her ears pierced! Why would this mother force her like this? Oh my, it's getting worse! The girl is now loudly crying and the mother has switched her approach. Now she's talking sternly to the girl. The shop girl gestures and the mother is now holding the girls head in both her hands! This is terrible! She practically has the girl in a head lock! You can't watch anymore. With a disgusted look through the window at the terrible mom, you walk away.
That was PG and me, except PG wasn't there to get her ears pierced. She was there because we had thought that the front of her earring had broken off. The shopgirl was trying to remove the post. Once it was clear that PG wasn't going to let her do it, we went to Urgent Care where the doctor informed us that the entire earring had been swallowed up by her earlobe. So she was justified in her pain and swatting. (And yes, we had been cleaning it and turning it every day. In fact, we have picture proof from the day before that both her ear and earring were healthy and visible the day before. She slept on it at a party and woke up with it gone. So who knew?)
So. This has not been one of my better weeks as a mother, because in addition to the thieves and liars living under this roof, you can add child abuser. Me. I feel horrible.
I don't have a clever way of ending this, except to caution the parents out there: don't even let yourself feel comfortable in this job. Dignity and parenting do not go hand in hand. However, days like this do make me believe that parenting and wine do go hand in hand. If I had known what this past week was going to do to me, I would've bought stock in some vineyards.
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