“You’re incredibly patient,” my friend remarked, observing me manage yet another emotional outburst from my 6-year-old with ADHD, using a calm voice as if I were on display. “It’s okay to feel that way, sweetheart,” I reassured my child. “Do you need a big hug? Let’s enjoy a snack together.”
“I don’t know how you do it,” she sighed.
I chuckled. “Honestly, I’m better at parenting when others are watching.”
When you see me in public, you encounter the Public Mom persona. Public Mom always has the right organic snacks ready. She carries tiny reusable water bottles instead of juice boxes, and her kids wear outfits that somewhat match, all revolving around a color scheme or theme. The children are expected to help out, ensuring their life jackets are properly secured before they even touch the sand, and one of them is usually holding the youngest’s hand. Public Mom listens carefully to her 4-year-old’s jumbled words, saying things like “I understand” and “That must be tough.” She can brush off tantrums with the composure of a zen master.
You probably find Public Mom annoying.
What you don’t realize is that to embody Public Mom, my other side—Private Mom—had to make a stop for fast-food chicken nuggets on the way to the playdate, leaving the minivan littered with trash that had accumulated since her partner insisted she should clean it. The chicken nuggets and milkshakes guaranteed some compliance from my rowdy crew. Protein, right?
At home, Private Mom doesn’t bother with reusable water bottles. Her kids start with juice, and when they ask for more, she yells at them to get their own water because she’s too busy with the endless chores of motherhood (cleaning, picking up toys, detangling gum from hair). They munch on non-organic snacks, sneaking into the kitchen to cut open Fritos like they’re performing surgery, scattering crumbs everywhere while watching the least favorite Star Wars movie.
Private Mom’s children are not as helpful as Public Mom’s.
When asked to clean, Private Mom’s kids collapse like defeated wildebeests, wailing that they despise cleaning and that it’s pointless. Private Mom loses her cool at the “waste of time” excuse. The gentle voice of Public Mom vanishes.
Gone are her soothing phrases and encouragements. Instead, Private Mom launches into a passionate lecture aimed at her small audience about how much she does for them and why they shouldn’t waste her time. This tactic rarely works.
She threatens to confiscate their toys, which is equally unproductive. Finally, she gives in and helps them, even though she has no time for it, but somehow they manage to pick up enough to avoid her stepping on LEGO pieces.
Private Mom has no patience for their tantrums. Public Mom suggests deep breathing, but when the kids scream, “I HATE DEEP BREATHING!”, she responds with a deep breath of her own and switches to “Let’s pop some mad bubbles.” When they scream “I HATE POPPING MAD BUBBLES!”, Private Mom knows she’s wasting her time.
When the tantrums start, Private Mom simply walks away. The kids follow because, of course, tantrums need an audience. She continues walking, eventually tending to her plants outside while a small voice screams behind her, hoping the neighbors don’t hear. Public Mom speaks calmly, while Private Mom’s voice is the one that commands respect.
Private Mom lives in yoga pants and doesn’t dress up, put on makeup, or do her hair unless she’s going out. Her kids think those black pants are some kind of magical mommy suit. Meanwhile, Public Mom always wears lipstick and has immaculate toenail polish—her kids probably do too, with cute haircuts requiring styling products.
Private Mom’s kids are far from polite. They holler things like, “I WANT CEREAL!” and “PUT ON OCTONAUTS NOW!” Public Mom’s kids have been taught to say “please” and “thank you.” If they forget, she sings, “What do we sa-ay?” Private Mom either ignores their demands or gives in with a resigned shrug. Public Mom would never tolerate such behavior. There would be a quiet conversation, an apology, and it would all conclude with a hug and a high-five.
Public Mom is undeniably the better version of me. We all tend to be better parents when we believe others are observing us—perhaps judging us. Sometimes, the judgment from other parents can be overwhelming—like when they criticize how you choose to feed your baby or the way you carry your child. Yet, at times, their presence can be beneficial.
Having an audience can make you feel like a rock star while handling tantrums. They admire your children’s manners and think, “Wow, I wish I had remembered my kids’ reusable bottles.” Yes, you do, Public Mom thinks. Because she feels amazing, energized, and ready to tackle the day.
Perhaps the presence of other adults plays a role in this transformation.
For more insights on parenting, including information on self-insemination techniques, check out our other blog posts like this one on artificial insemination kits. If you’re seeking expert resources on pregnancy, visit this excellent site for comprehensive information.
In summary, it’s perfectly normal to feel like you’re a better parent in public than at home. The pressure of others watching can bring out the best in us, even if our private selves are a bit messier.
Leave a Reply