“Whose children are these?” The woman sneered, pointing her chin in my direction. Forget the fact that I had previously introduced myself and my little one just a few weeks prior.
“They’re mine,” I replied, shifting the baby on my hip and gesturing toward my friend who was relaxing on a blanket in our yard.
“I came over because these kids aren’t being properly watched!”
“Actually, we’re right here, keeping an eye on them,” I said, trying to remain calm.
“This isn’t a safe place to play!” Her tone was filled with disbelief. “There are cars passing by and people walking through. Which one is yours?” she demanded, shaking her head, clearly judging my parenting skills.
I half-heartedly pointed to my 3-year-old.
“Which child is yours?” she pressed, her voice rising.
I placed my hand gently on my daughter’s head. “This is my child. I appreciate your concern, but I’m watching her. Thank you,” I replied, my tone clipped.
She looked furious and reluctantly retreated back to her driveway.
I know how to handle a nosy neighbor, especially when I feel unfairly criticized. My heart raced, and I fought the urge to shout, “Hey lady! You’re doing it all wrong!”
Parenting styles these days can be vastly different. Sometimes, I wonder how I was allowed to leave the hospital with a baby and a nose ring. I aim to avoid yelling, steer clear of GMOs, and not raise a child who stays inside all the time (since that’s how I grew up). This approach means I allow my child to explore and engage in some risky play without constantly saying “Be careful!” or “Get down from there!”
We prioritize bodily autonomy and intentional risk-taking in our household. It’s often nerve-wracking to watch my child climb higher or run faster, but those feelings are mine to navigate, not hers.
The self-appointed guardian stood in her yard, arms crossed, scrutinizing us for another half hour. When my daughter started to wail (as 3-year-olds are prone to do), I noticed her positioning her phone, ready to document any supposed misstep. Thankfully, none occurred. My child joyfully scrambled down a pile of mulch and chased after her friend. It wasn’t until our guests left and my kids were indoors that the woman felt comfortable returning to her own home.
As I struggle with postpartum anxiety and depression, I can’t help but reflect on women like her—those who have kids and, somehow, have forgotten how challenging it is to raise them.
Her misguided concern didn’t help. My children were no safer because of her unsolicited interference. Her harsh comments lingered in my mind, overshadowing the joy of the day. What a difference it could have made if she had approached me with kindness, as a neighbor willing to help raise a child. Instead, I felt scolded and watched as if I were just waiting to make a mistake. I know the type: quick to criticize, slow to lend a hand.
Each time I encounter such judgmental individuals, I hope that in the future, once I’ve navigated these early parenting years, I can offer a helping hand, a knowing smile, and a word of encouragement instead of judging another mom like I was judged today. Motherhood is hard, and every mom deserves support.
What my children—and all kids—truly need is a mother who feels supported, loved, and mentored. We’re not just raising children; we’re also nurturing future mothers.
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Summary
The author shares an encounter with a judgmental neighbor who criticized her parenting choices regarding her children playing outside. Reflecting on the challenges of motherhood and the need for support, she emphasizes the importance of kindness over criticism among parents.
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