(Photo credit: Cynthia Graham Photography)
An inevitable part of being a parent — one never enumerated in What to Expect When You’re Expecting — is learning how to take a comment. For some reason, the possession of offspring in a public place makes parents an open, unfortunately slow-moving target to whom strangers may give advice, chastise, praise, and judge. While I have honed my parenting skills over the course of four children, I have also fine-tuned my social techniques so I can more gracefully handle the comments — the nice, the mean, and the particularly grating “bless your heart” kind of veiled zingers — thrown my way on almost a daily basis.
Being the mother of three boys has made me the recipient of a whole special subset of additional comments over the years as well. The comments started when I only had two little boys (Don’t you have your hands full!) and just grew in number and in scope as I added a third and then a daughter to the mix. I have this to say: I never, ever get used to it. I am always surprised by what strangers are willing to say, especially in front of my children. Most people mean well, but Miss Manners could have a field day with what I have encountered. Some of the greatest hits over the years:
You’re so lucky you’ll never have a teenage girl!
Before I had my baby girl, I heard this “reassurance” more times than I can count, and I take a lot of issue with it. The movement against teenage girls irritates me. Yes, they are dramatic, emotionally exhausting, and they can be mean. Teenage girls can be intimidating or exasperating. I get it. However, I happen to think that along with all those qualities, teenage girls are pretty dang awesome. With all the drama and all the heightened emotions comes an exquisite, complex emotional beauty too, along with creativity, industry, and poetry. I love their vulnerability. I love their passion. All teenagers are hard — but they are worth it. When people gave me this line about how I should be grateful I’d never have one of my own to raise, I kind of wanted to punch them. Now that I actually have a daughter, I feel even more strongly about the subject. To raise a daughter is a privilege. To bear witness to the process of that daughter becoming a woman is a gift.
Boys are so much easier than girls!
For once and for all, people: if I had wanted things “easy,” I wouldn’t have chosen to have a child, much less four of them. Furthermore, I would like you to watch me stumble through my days as I try to avoid the ER, feed three ravenous young boys, and elicit more than one-syllable responses from them about various topics, and then tell me how much easier boys are than girls. In any case, it doesn’t matter. This isn’t a competition. It’s condescending and it’s just plain wrong to try and claim that one gender is a cakewalk. My three boys are different in size, shape, and personality. There isn’t an “easy” one among them.
At least you don’t have a girl. You won’t have to worry about a daughter getting pregnant.
No, I won’t. But I will have to worry about my sons getting pregnant. OF COURSE, there is a difference — as a woman, I understand that it’s a whole different ball game when it is your child who has a baby growing inside her belly. But let me just assure you, I won’t be coasting through those teenage years carefree. There will be a lot of worry and a lot of condoms on bananas and a lot of holding my breath. I’m praying for teenage sons who are socially successful enough to have dates and socially awkward enough not to have sex with them. What are my odds?
You finally got your girl.
Now that I have a baby girl, I see strangers mentally taking inventory of our family as we move around in the world — at Disney, at Target, at the movie theater. Their eyes bounce from boy to boy and then they crane their necks to lay eyes on what is in my arms or my stroller, not just to see a sweet baby, but to see if she is yet another boy. Many, many (many) times, the words come out before I can dodge them: “You finally got your girl! Now you can stop.” I understand the impulse to say it, but my boys hear it, and I do see something flash across their faces: maybe the thought that they aren’t worth as much because there are more of them? That their gender is the most important thing about them to me or others? My children are much more than their genders to me; they are distinct and special individuals. I respond with the truth — “I just wanted one more baby, but of course I am thrilled to have a daughter” — but every time it happens, I wince with a little pang of hurt on behalf of my boys and even on behalf of Lucy, who is also much more than just a girl to me.
Strangers are going to comment; that is never going to change. Take my advice, though. When you learn that your friend is going to have a baby of any gender, whether it is the first, the second, or the seventh, the proper first response is always and only this: That is wonderful news. Congratulations!
I love this, Allison! People just say weird things sometimes. Sometimes they are related to us, too. Go figure.
I was a teenage girl once and I have one now. You captured it perfectly, and I wish that I could have read a passage like this 30 years ago (heck, even two years ago!):
“With all the drama and all the heightened emotions comes an exquisite, complex emotional beauty too, along with creativity, industry, and poetry. I love their vulnerability. I love their passion. ”
Thanks for sharing your family with us.
Elaine
I can’t imagine not having exactly the children that I have. Boy, girls, easy, hard. None of that really matters, right?
And I agree, teenage girls are complicated in the most brilliant way.
Oh, this. This, this, this. There’s a whole ‘nother rant to be written about what people say to you when they find out you’ve adopted a child…as if my daughter couldn’t hear someone say “Oh, I’m sure you love her as if she were your own”. What DOES get into people?
Wow Allison!! This one really hit me and love it! I wish people would just say I love your 3 daughters!! I’m sick and tired of Where is the boy??? At the beginning I didn’t know what to say, but in the last 6 years my answer is: At work or here! pointing to my husband 🙂 plus more. My answer is rude as the question and the girls just love it. They like to see me speaking up and not letting anybody make them feel inferior. Also I don’t like the size comments, my husband and I are short and the girls always will be below the average and they are as smart and strong physically and mentally as they could be. You know them well :). Thanks again. Love
Yes, this. It irks me to no end when people see that I have two boys and say, “It’s okay, you can try again for a girl!” – as if there is anything wrong with having two boys, that there is anything missing in our family because I don’t have a daughter. I love my children, and if I had girls in the future, I’ll love them just the same, not more, not less.
People need to have a filter between their brains and their mouths.
This is the third blog post I’ve come across lately from a mother writing about what others should or should not say to her regarding her children/parenting–some express more anger than others. I’ve also recently come across a couple of posts from bloggers detailing what gifts should or should not be given to their children at holiday time. I am your age; my husband and I have been trying to have a child for as many years as you’ve had your second child (I’m estimating). The challenging thing for me is when peers or strangers say or imply “you have no idea what it’s like to be a mother.” Quite true–I don’t. I like having this open discussion among women, and in that spirit I hope all the moms out there who were able to have biological children without years of expensive and painful fertility treatments will recall that extremely good fortune when calling out non-mothers for not using the perfect words with them at every juncture.
I responded to Genna privately, but I wanted to clarify that my post on HuffPost (and here) was not at all intended to target non-mothers. Actually, the comments I get usually come from older mothers! Ironic, yes. Anyway, I too would love to keep dialogue open. Things annoy me; I write about them sometimes. I meant this post to be much more tongue in cheek than how people are taking it on HuffPost. Genna, please accept my apology for the misunderstanding, and as I told you, I hope you find peace in what I know is a horrifically frustrating endeavor. Thank you for reading and commenting!
Thank you, Allison. I appreciate your thoughtfulness on this topic and support you in opening the dialog on the very real challenges and unfair judgments and comments you face as a parent!