Just before the holidays, I took my girls to a great big National Geographic warehouse sale.
Maps… backpacks… gorgeous, lusty coffeetable books… all at a zillion percent off.
It was sort of a globetrotter’s dream.
And it was their day to find something special, for their cousins and their grandparents and each other.
It was crowded, but not in an overwhelming or offensive way, and it was in a convention hall so the ceilings were like 80 feet high. There was breathing room.
Still. There’s always someone. Y’know?
So we’re at the last few tables, upon which there are very small things — compasses and such — so people are clustering around and squeezing in a bit. The prices are hanging on the table skirts — right where people are standing — which is ill-designed but it’s a warehouse sale so whaddya want?
My Small and Tall Ones are pressed up against the table discussing the differences between thermometers and barometers when a sort of huffing woman trying to look over and past them says, "Girls, I’d like you to please step back from the table about 2 feet so everyone can see."
I hear her say it.
I absorb it.
I look around to see if my kids are really doing anything different or less socially cooperative than other shoppers.
And then I take a deep breath and I speak up.
"Please don’t scold them, ma’am," I say. "They’re actually just looking, happily and patiently, like everybody else here."
(Well, like most everybody else here, if you know what I mean.)
And then Angry Woman says, "I didn’t scold them, I merely……."
It got all blurry in my brain at that point and I didn’t want to have a throw-down at the National Geographic sale.
Plus, I’d already stuck up for my kids, which is all I’d wanted to do, so I was done.
I stepped away, with Tall One at my side.
Unbeknownest to me, Small One hesitated.
Just for a moment.
Just long enough to hear Angry Woman say, "If she was a good mother, she’d have told them to step back herself!"
This was repeated to me by my aghast little seven-year-old a few minutes later.
"She is very, very lucky I didn’t hear her," I said, pretty aghast myself.
And, really, I’m glad I didn’t.
Because I would’ve felt compelled to respond and instead, the girls and I played with some What If scenarios and then spent the rest of the day joking about what I’d do if I were a Good Mother.
It has stuck in my craw though, and here’s why:
There is no one such thing as a Good Mother.
Some good mothers hover and some give space… some discuss everything and some make executive decisions… some insist on frequent baths and some have a high tolerance for dirt… some are solemn and some are silly… some cook and some order in… some help and some ask for help…
And that, as you know, ain’t the half of it.
And pretty much none of this is going to be apparent at the small gift table at a National Geographic warehouse sale.
We don’t know the stories and inner lives of the people we pass on the streets and bump into at shops and airports.
But it seems to me that we’d do well to give most of them the benefit of the doubt, you know?
‘Cause really, the thing that matters is that Good Mothers love their children.
Right?
Wonderful post, Liz. I so admire your ability to step back and be non-judgmental. The woman was rude and had no cause for her remark. Yet — who knows — was she having a bad day herself? I believe in giving people the benefit of the doubt, too, but sometimes, it’s very hard. I imagine from a mother’s point of view, it would be twice as hard, because adults have the power, and your girls were being unfairly trampled on by this woman.
My husband would have told her off, no doubt. But that’s him.
And I’ve been a little hasty in my reactions before, Jama, so that’s why I paused first, to try to see if I was right in being a little miffed or if I was just being defensive.
Of course my more philosophical thoughts here are in retrospect but I’m glad that I spoke up AND that I didn’t flip out. Sometimes fair and balanced seems like a good idea 🙂
You have a ‘good mother’ totally beat. You’re clearly a GREAT MOTHER.
Aw shucks. Certainly not every day, but I guess I think more of us are good mothers than not. Y’know?
Love. Definitely the most important thing.
Pretty much the bottom line, isn’t it?
I think it’s harmful to raise a child to think the world revolves around them, but nothing makes my blood boil faster than someone treating a Small One with less than respect. I mean, really! Would she have told any other person to step back two feet??? How about “excuse me, would you mind if I looked at that also?” What’s wrong with that?
As for the other remark, I think the Universe settled that one. I bet your girls will be telling “Good Mom” stories and laughing with their own Small Ones one day.
Yes, Sara. I’m with you. I tend to think that pedestals are for marble busts, not children.
But respect is non-negotiatable. And though this woman’s words appeared civil on their face, there was most definately something acidic going on underneath.
The table was surrounded by adults; I think the kids were just easy targets for her frustration that this particular section of the sale was a little overcrowded and slow-going.
I have no doubt that Good Mother stories are now part of our lexicon, whether I like it or not. 🙂
I’m clearly not quite as kind and thoughtful as you all, cuz my hope is that at some point during that day, somebody opened up a big can of whoop-ass on that woman! Telling “what if…good mother” stories sounds like a great way to take a yucky event and make it funny. Clearly you’re an awesome mother and your kids know it, which is why the game will be funny forever.
xoxoxox
OK, this cracks me up…
I know you well enough to know that you are not a good mother – you are an EXCELLENT mother. And the nasty biddy at the sale was a rude person who tried to bully children. And if she can’t see over your kids, then she can wait her turn, like everyone else.
It is hard, when you are an essentially kind-hearted person, to remember that sometimes, being angry is completely justified, as in this instance.
If I ever start up, like, maybe a roller derby team, I’m asking you to be on it, Kelly…
Hmm . . . roller derby and RA don’t really mix. But man, your post made me angry on your behalf.
I wish I could be surprised at hearing this and I am sad to say that I am not.
I’m so glad that your girls have such a strong sense of self that this woman’s venom will hopefully brush right off of them.
As so many have already said, you are a wonderful mother!
Thank you, Susan. It brushed off. My girls are pretty good at just rollin’ their eyes…
ARGH!
I wish my response was more mature than to sit here thinking of snappy comebacks on your behalf. I think you handled it beautifully.
Once, when I was sixteen, my parents were thwarting my life (as parents do when you’re sixteen) and their logic was so frustrating that I burst out with, “You two deserve each other!”
A few years later, I heard my dad raise his glass to my mother. “To us,” he said. “We deserve each other.”
I love your game.
Re: ARGH!
Funny funny funny — I LOVE that!
Oh, Liz. I think you are brilliant. You and your children handled that so well. I love the ‘good mother’ games/scenarios.
I know that my biggest weakness and sensitivity is worrying that I’m not a good mother. I hope that if something like this ever happens to me I handle it half as well as you do.
xo
C
You have handled this and waaaay worse out there in the world — I’ve read about it — with grace and savvy. And I’m certain there’s a very fine girl who’d describe you as a very fine mother…
Isn’t it awful when people lash out you or your kids because they’re embarassed or they’ve been caught doing something that they know they shouldn’t be doing. Instead of apologizing for their ill behavior they act inhuman. I totally agree with your take on mothering, Liz. Every parent brings a fresh approach to mothering their children and what I do and you do might not jive with the next mother but it doesn’t mean we’re bad mothers. Let’s assume that the lady at the National Geographic sale, after much pondering on her own, was embarassed by her actions and vowed to take a step back next time. We can dream….
Let’s DO assume that, Carmen. Dreaming’s good…
Can I say I got a knot in my stomach just reading this? I’ll never understand what makes people act this way. You set a wonderful example for your children responding the way you did. You let them know you were there for them without trampling on someone else (which would have been very easy to do).
First of all, how do I sign up for a National Geographic warehouse sale? My kids would be in heaven.
Secondly, I am awed with grace and restraint you showed. I have a feeling your little ones were looking at something the woman wanted herself so she figured she’d be able to order them away from the table. You know, good mothers train their kids to listen to authority.
You’re right, good mothers love their children. And I know you are a GREAT mother.