Oh, my!

My son squirmed, screaming, sweaty, and tear-streaked in my arms outside a local shop. He was infuriated that I had interrupted his train play for our next errand and was hell-bent on letting his feelings be heard.

Truth be told, if he were my first, I would have been reduced to tears and massive shushing attempts. For better or worse, as my third, he met only with secure, stubborn arms,  a hissed, "Let's go!!!" to his slow-exiting sisters, and a set, if flushed, face. It was not my finest moment in parenting, but it would, as I had learned, pass.

"Oh, my!"

A wide-eyed woman approached our storefront perch, seemingly alarmed by my son's fit. In my kinder recollection, she helped me by distracting my son from his fury, a seasoned mom empathizing with my red-faced moment.  At the time, her words felt like judgment. I was torn between hurling him at her and sinking into the pavement. I stared at her - hard - grabbed my daughters and marched to the car.

As I settled into the safety of my minivan interior, my brood silenced by my glare, I paused. What had just happened?

My son's outburst was not unexpected. He's two, not very verbal, and bad at transitions. I had anticipated the situation, exited quickly so as to minimize the impact on shoppers, and clearly signaled to all kids involved the impending sequence of events. He was loud and I was frustrated, but the moment was in my control.

Until another mom entered the picture and my confidence fell apart.

Was it her? Was it me? What is it about parenting in public that can be so debilitating?

Admittedly, I have never welcomed being openly vulnerable, nor have I been especially receptive to feedback of any kind. And yet being a mom of three independent-yet-born-of-me-and-raised-in-my-home souls has ripped off all of my protective layers and yes-I've-got-it-together facade. I shouldn't matter in this equation of human raising - my kids do. And yet...

Parenting strips me to my rawest core. And I'm not always brave enough to stand so exposed to the world.

There is no one I appreciate more than the parent in Target who smiles sheepishly at me while one of my three yells his or her head off. I want to hug the mom who doesn't blink when my child is especially whiny at the grocery store. I could high five the dad who wordlessly hands my son his thrown toy car with a wink in my direction and squeeze the grandma who smiles at me while I struggle by with an obnoxious puppy, loud stroller, swerving training wheels-rider, and independent two-wheeling kindergartner in tow, all in an attempt to "get some fresh air and enjoy time together." These are my people. Their gracious, humor-filled empathy is a gift.

I love my children fiercely, and am intensely humbled by the honor and challenge of being their mother. I am struck daily, hourly, each second by the immense responsibility of being their first teacher. I can and will be a warrior for them - I just can't fight other parents on that quest.

I know that much of the judgment I sense from the world beyond my home actually comes from voices within; I'm working at turning down their volume. But beyond that, perhaps, as partners on this parenting journey, we can make a special attempt to connect. Friendly faces, generous laughter, and safe zones of acceptance and patience help us all.

The spotlight glare of a child's tantrum is so unforgiving. Let's help each other find the safety in the shadows of the stage and offer enthusiastic applause, no matter what our parenting performance looks like on a given day out there in the world.

It doesn't take much to say "Oh my!" to distract a little one from his frustration and then offer a warm smile to his mom. It just might be the right band-aid for her raw, exposed heart.