Don’t Try to Shame Me

Universal truth #1: parenting is hard, but most parents make a whole lot of thoughtful parenting decisions because of their love for their offspring.

Universal truth #2: those who try to shame others’ thoughtful parenting decisions do not add value.

Here are some of the parenting decisions we’ve made lately.

Knowing that the lack of routine in the summer is uncomfortable for Kendall, we create and maintain simple routines that help us to not only get through, but also enjoy summertime activities. We regularly talk with her about the schedule for each week to help her feel confident that she knows what to expect (three camp days, then three home days, then three summer school days, then four more home days…). We allow her to ask us “when do I go to school?” as many times as she would like, and then we distract her with snuggles and Curious George when she begins perseverating and getting anxious. And, to allow Kendall to spend the majority of each weekend in the comfort of her own home and backyard, Tom uses his days off during the week to take care of as many errands as possible.

One of the errands I really prefer to do, though, is the weekly pick-up of our CSA share at a beautifully run, local, organic farm that puts incredible focus on building a community with its shareholders. It was recommended to us by our close friends, Ed and Jazmin, and other friends have now joined us, as well. As much as possible, we try to use the weekly trip to the farm as a chance to see each other amid our busy summer schedules.

This is our third summer enjoying the harvest and community at the farm, and while Kendall is not always in the mood for all of the activities (collecting our share of veggies in the barn, cutting herbs and flowers in the field, playing in the sandbox, seeing the pigs and chickens), we have developed a routine that works for us. I allow her to slowly start her Saturday with cartoons, and when I think that the mood is right, I suggest that we go to Dunkin Donuts for one of her favorite treats–hash browns! We follow the familiar route out of town, stopping to pick up coffee for me and hash browns for her, and listen to Curious George audio books while she munches and looks at her books in the backseat. When we arrive at the farm, I give her the choice of coming into the barn with me or staying in the car to look at her books. On the weeks she does join me, I usually have a hard time convincing her to leave, but it’s such a wonderful weight off of my shoulders that allowing her to stay in the car is a safe choice, as I can easily see the car from the barn, I can get in and out quickly, and this is trust-worthy community.

Kendall and I enjoyed a nice, relaxed morning today. When I suggested that we head out, she was excited and got ready immediately. The drive out to the farm was smooth, as she happily chattered in the backseat, eating her hash browns. When we arrived, I gave her the usual choice, and she said she wanted to continue looking at her books in the car (she has a NEW Daniel Tiger book). I smiled, kissed her forehead, and told her I would be right back with our veggies. I got my bags out of the back of the car, made sure she was buckled securely with her books and snack (in her large 5-pt. harness seat designed for older children who still need greater restraint), put the front windows down enough to provide fresh air but not so much that someone could reach in, and locked the doors. I felt free and easy as I walked across the small parking lot and into the barn to be welcomed by Carol, the farm shop manager.

I selected my leeks, bok choy, zucchini, summer squash, cucumbers, and swiss chard and noticed on the chalkboard that green beans were ready for picking in the field. While I pulled eggs out of the cooler, I asked Carol where the beans were planted this year, hoping that I could convince Kendall to help me pick some with the promise of playing in the sandbox or visiting the pigs afterward. The pleasant hum of others coming and going from the barn to the field swirled around me as I paid for my eggs, cheese, and meat and looked out the window to check on Kendall.

Carol continued to greet people when they came in the door. “Hi, Joe!” she said, as a man approached. “Do you know who drives the black Toyota Hylander right there?” Joe asked her, pointing out the window. I answered, “That’s my car,” thinking that he was going to offer something helpful like “Did you know your dome light is on?” Joe turned to me with a disturbed look on his face; “There’s a kid in the car. It’s too hot to leave her in there.”

Crash. All of my positive, confident energy for the day shattered on the floor.

What!? Did that just happen? Did he just go out of his way to tell me that, based on a split-second observation and no other context whatsoever, I had put my child in danger? The same child who is protected every moment of every day in ways that he will never need to consider for his own children? The child who was, in fact, not in any danger at all sitting in a secured, well-ventilated car for less than 10 minutes with an outside temperature of 77°F?

Hot, angry tears were in my eyes already. I tried to give my response of “thank you” with as much sarcasm as I could muster because I knew I would only be able to eek out two words before my voice cracked. Carol, offering her support, said to me that she knows Kendall doesn’t always want to get out of the car. I responded to her loudly and in his direction with “Yep! Autism’s a bitch!” while he walked away. I fumbled to gather up my things, hardly able to see through the tears, told Carol that we would pick green beans another day, and took off across the parking lot.

The sobbing started as soon as I closed the car door and reminded myself to look out for others in the parking lot as I tried to hurry away. My confused child asked me repeatedly if I was okay, if I was sad, if I was angry. For her sake, I tried to wipe the tears away and reassure her. She wasn’t buying it. She’s incredibly affected by others’ emotions, so my tears were making her more and more anxious. I told her that it makes me sad when other people aren’t nice. “Why aren’t they nice?” she asked in her sweet voice. “I don’t know, sweetie. We should all be nice to each other.” She smiled and agreed.

I’ve experienced drive-by shaming before, the kind that comes out of nowhere with all the wrong intentions. When she was five and I was carrying her across a parking lot because she had a tendency to bolt, a woman called out “She’s big enough to carry you! Put her down!” When she was eight and sitting in the grocery cart seat for the same reason, legs dangling awkwardly, someone asked “Aren’t there size limits for those?” Now that she’s 11 and has behaviors that don’t match her chronological age and size, we get plenty of judgmental looks. Those situations are difficult, but I am able to brush them off pretty easily.

This parental shaming, though, digs deep because it happened in a place I use for refuge and relaxation. It happened when I was feeling comfortable and confident in my ability to balance her needs with my own. My guard was down because there was no reason for it to be up. We were safe, emotionally and physically, until someone suggested that we weren’t.

I know that the potential consequences of leaving children and animals in hot cars are dire (I know because we are conscientious, informed human and fur parents). I also know that each summer there are many horror and hero stories about children and animals suffocating in hot cars or being narrowly saved by a concerned bystander. I can try to believe that Joe thought he was “doing the right thing.”

Here’s the difference between being a concerned bystander and committing a drive-by shaming, though.

A concerned bystander is someone who sees actual reason to be concerned; there is real evidence of danger, so they are compelled to intervene. If you see a child alone in a car on a hot day who is sweating, appears dehydrated, is not able to get out, and is clearly not being supervised, please take action.

If, however, there is nothing actually unsafe about the situation, keep your mouth shut because you are about to commit a drive-by shaming. Seriously. This will provide zero value to the family. It only serves to make you feel important, and you can do that in positive ways instead…like, actually doing something important.

The most important opinion of my parenting is Kendall’s. Period. During today’s drive home, in which I was doing my very best to be positive and calm for my girl, she held out her stuffed bunny and said “Mommy, you can snuggle my Ruby to feel better.” We are clearly raising a compassionate child, incapable of shaming or feeling shame, who feels safe and loved.

Don’t try to shame me. I’ll be at the farm next weekend with my girl.