A farewell to arms

Declaring independence from the Mommy Arsenal

By Julianne Hale

I never thought I would consider a Dum Dum a tool. I also never pictured myself giddy at the prospect of a solo trip to the grocery store.

What can I say? Things change. When your life of blissful freedom ends abruptly with the birth of a child and all of the responsibilities this needy, helpless bundle of joy entails, your priorities do a 180. Your hips expand, you get a few gray hairs, and you gain a substantial amount of weight—in your purse.

Prior to having children, I carried a hip little clutch. It housed my wallet, cell phone and keys, and a couple of tubes of lip gloss. These days I carry a bag the size of a mini-fridge that is filled with all manner of distractions and treats for my kids. I call it my “Mommy Arsenal.” There are crayons, coloring books, small toys and trinkets, a healthy supply of Dum Dums, and an “in-case-of-emergency” small plastic bottle of Jack Daniels. These items (aside from the bottle) are the tools I keep on hand to ensure that my children behave appropriately in public. They rarely work. I’m on a quest to find something that does.

Kathleen Cunningham, a Chattanooga mom with her very own Mommy Arsenal, has a story that many parents will find all too familiar:

“While Joe was in kindergarten, I took Ben (age 3 at the time) to the Northgate library, a place we visit weekly. That particular day, our time was limited because we had to pick up Joe. Ben likes to play on the kids’ computers in the library. When it was getting close to time to go, I gave a countdown—five minutes, three minutes, one more, etc.—and when we simply had to go, he threw an absolute fit. I tried to calm him down by whispering (we’re in the library, you know) every bribe I knew—a cookie, ice cream, we’ll go play the Wii after we pick up Joe, etc.—and nothing worked. So I had to physically carry him, kicking and screaming, out of the very quiet library full of stares from many adults. I felt like I was kidnapping my own child! Very embarrassing!”

Kelly Cureton Keyes, Chattanooga mother of 4-year-old Charlie, had a similar experience in a restaurant. She explains, “I once had to leave a friend and her three children at the Blue Plate because Charlie would not behave. Her two girls were sitting there like angels, and my little devil was yelling, jumping, and making me look like the worst mother ever!”

Kelly and Kathleen’s stories will have a lot of parents nodding their heads with empathy, remembering their own public discipline horror stories. Keeping your children in line in your home is one thing; keeping them in line in the grocery store, restaurant, post office or library is a whole different animal. What is it that makes these two situations so very different? Amanda Leamon, mother of two and active member of the Scenic City Playgroup, explains her theory:

“Sometimes public discipline does present a challenge because, in the back of my mind, I am always wondering what someone will perceive is going on or what assumptions will be made about how I am handling my child.”

Amanda has a point. Public discipline is uniquely challenging because others are watching, judging, waiting for us to slip up and do something that will land us on the 5 o’clock news.

How do we avoid completely losing it and becoming that Mom in the Target Parking Lot who was caught on the security cameras beating the daylights out of her child? Or, in my case, how do I avoid retreating, desperate and defeated, into the bathroom and downing my worst-case-scenario whiskey in one swig? If Dum Dums and bribes aren’t working, what will? How can we control our kids in public places under society’s watchful eye without crossing some invisible line of public acceptability?

Kevin Leman, PhD, New York Times bestselling author of Have a New Kid by Friday, explains how he would handle a public tantrum:

“If your child, say he’s 4 years old, is throwing a temper tantrum in the mall and there are lots of people watching, what do you do? I say you step over the child—and of course there is a great temptation to step on the child at that point—but you step over the child and walk away. You’ll see these parents looking at you, and you respond by shaking your head and saying, ‘Some parent’s children.’ Then you keep walking. I say this tongue in cheek, but what happens is the 4-year-old doesn’t continue the temper tantrum. Why? Because you’ve taken the audience away. That’s what I call purposive behavior in the book. The behavior serves a purpose. The child thinks, If I have a temper tantrum, Mom’s going to give in, and she’s going to buy me that treat I want. When you step over the child, you take your sails out of that child’s wind and avoid a power-struggle.”

Sometimes the best strategy is simply to leave the public place and return home. In many cases, that will be punishment enough. If the whole family is out and one child acts up and forces everyone to leave the park, restaurant, bowling alley or other public place, then so be it—though this approach will be nearly impossible for parents trying to keep things fair. Dr. Leman acknowledges this, but defends his strategy. “My critics have often said, ‘Now, why would you punish everybody for one person’s behavior?’ My response is always the same: ‘Because we are a family. We’re in this thing together.’ It’s a good lesson to teach your children that when Mom’s not happy, everyone is unhappy.”

Dr. Leman’s final piece of advice is simple. “If your son or daughter needs discipline in public, discipline them in public,” he says. “There are so many parents these days that are determined to make their kids happy at every turn. One of the wisest sentences in Have a New Kid by Friday is, ‘An unhappy child is a healthy child.’ There are times when your son or daughter has to be unhappy, even in public.”

And what about those pesky onlookers, the ones whose opinions about our parenting skills hold such power over us? Dr. Leman advises that we let go of this worry. He says, “If someone comes up to you and tries to ‘help,’ you just say, ‘Hey, I appreciate your input. This is my child. I’m fully capable of handling him, just as I’m sure you are capable of handling your children.’ And then continue with your discipline.”

If I can truly take Dr. Leman’s advice to heart, I might be able to scale back the Mommy Arsenal bit by bit, until my purse actually fits into the overhead compartment of an airplane. Who knows? Maybe someday I’ll even reclaim my hip little clutch! I’ll just have to leave the lip gloss at home to make room for the airplane bottle.

Julianne Hale, a freelance writer and mother of three, lives in Cleveland, Tenn. Read more from Julianne on her blog, AnotherGrayHair.Typepad.com.

These days I carry a bag the size of a mini-fridge that is filled with all manner of distractions and treats for my kids. I call it my “Mommy Arsenal.”

“I had to physically carry him, kicking and screaming, out of the Northgate Library. I felt like I was kidnapping my own child!”
Kathleen Cunningham