There are certain places it’s never okay to be loud at. A library, the opera, the stirrups of a gynecologist’s office. And there’s many places where loudness is encouraged. In protest, a taping of the Jerry Springer show, the throws of a sexcapade.
Most of the other places are in the grey area between – being loud, nor quietly humbled is necessary. The grocery store is one of those foggy spots. Today, I learned that not everyone thinks that.
Isobel and her friend, and I and her friend’s mom were grabbing a few things – fruit, veggies, crackers, rice milk, the essentials. And Isobel and her friend were singing, as well as a two and three year old can and as loudly as they were both aware was appropriate for an ‘inside place.’ The other mom and I were laughing at our girls’ ability to play off of each other, each alternating into princess, scooby-doo, and mermaid choruses in near unison.
Then we pulled a Uey from one aisle to the next and an old woman popped out of thin air to point her finger two inches from Isobel’s face. "Be quiet! Stop making noise! You are being so loud and annoying!"
I firmly and quickly told the woman that she could not yell at other people’s children in a public place, especially not when she was a stranger to the child. She argued that she could, since they were making too much noise.
And I corrected her before she ran in the other direction with her lips pursed, that she was behaving completely inappropriately and that it is up to a caregiver of the child to admonish them. And that she should watch whose child’s face she pokes her finger towards, the next time, because a lot of mothers wouldn’t stand for that kind of disrespect towards their child.
I feel like I handled myself maturely and another mother applauded, literally, from the bakery section of the store.
Then came the next aisle, where my friend and her daughter didn’t continue with us since they stopped to talk to someone. Isobel and I were looking at the granola bars, conveniently displayed directly above the toddler-height-merchandised fruit snacks. And with that kind of inspiration, Isobel snapped into Dora mode, singing her version of the ‘we did it!’ song.
And there was another judge. A man, not young, but not that old, kind of looked like the Quaker oatmeal guy, but more trailer trash. And he stared at Isobel and I for a solid two minutes, lips (again, what’s with that?) pursed. Finally, after looking at him back, giving him ‘the look’ and trying to ignore him, I said, "Did you need something?"
"I’m just thinking. What kind of a mother allows her child to act like that?"
Mental sputter. Seriously. She wasn’t screaming, she wasn’t kicking or flailing, she was sitting in her stroller, singing while wiggling her butt. What the fuck is the problem?
"Wow," I say, "this store is just full of assholes today."
"What was that?" He questions me.
I repeat myself, word for word, with one of those great made-for-theatre-enthusiastic-eyes-wide-bright-and-innocent looks on my face. His cheeks flared red and I could sense a barely restrained tremor in them. I say, "she’s just a little girl and she’s not hurting anyone, she’s singing. What do you think is so wrong about that?"
Then he handed me a line about having four now-grown kids, himself and that he’d never, ever allowed them to act the way Isobel is, in public. And I drop the dis, "well, they must have been such happy children, then, with that kind of support and encouragement to express themselves."
His comeback, "you’ll regret this when she’s older and you never see her because she’s gone far away from you."
Yahuh. Livid doesn’t even describe it. There are far worse things Isobel will have in her life to blame me for – not letting her boyfriend sleep over when she’s 13, refusing to buy her alcohol at her fourteenth birthday party, not letting her buy matching boobs to mine until she’s at least 16.
I know that some of my priorities are…different, but letting her sing at what I feel is a reasonable volume and enjoy herself while we do something boring, where other children typically would lose their shit?
Not something I see her running away from home about.
The main reason I got so pissed off? How disrespectful these two unrelated individuals were. I mean, fuck, we all judge parents based on what their children are or aren’t doing. Sometimes it’s about the parent not being something enough, or it’s an "I would never let my child" moment – but you don’t say those things out loud to the person, in front of the child, when you don’t know circumstances and/or the family.
And you do not under any circumstances point your fucking finger in my child’s face, basically telling them that they’re a pain in your Depends.
I wouldn’t do that to a close friend’s child, who knew me, never mind a stranger.
But, in hindsight, I should thank these people because they opened my eyes.
They made me realize how very angry I was that someone was trying to tell Isobel that she wasn’t good enough to fit into their schema of right. I guess, actually, it’s that I wasn’t good enough to make her be like they want her to be – silent and somber and better seen, than heard. Fuck that shit.
If Isobel wants to sing, sing proud. If she wants to make noises like a monkey, ‘E-E-E’ away, baby. If she wants to sit there, quiet and somber, I’m going to check my medicine cabinet because obviously she’s taken something with codeine in it.
Isobel is who she is and I refuse to try to change that, and I would far prefer loudmouths and pursed lips at the grocery store than to have her ever think that I didn’t approve of what she wanted to be.
A little girl. A musical, creative, imaginative little piece of sometimes perfection.
So to remedy my soul a little, we went for a walk in the rain, jumped in some puddles up to her knees a block from our apartment. We stripped her down to hoodie and princess panties as soon as we got into the lobby and ran for a bubble bath. Cuz she’s a little girl who loves to jump and splash and stomp and being half naked (and bubbles) and I had some spite to rid from my heart.
The great thing? She reminded me that watching her root around, and giggle, [with strangers applauding and smiling and saying it looked like fun - someone even took her picture on their camera phone to send the person they were talking to (cuz she was that cute)] in a puddle, covering her bargain-priced Vans slip-ons in mud is totally cool.
Cuz everything can be washed away, if you let it be.
