Line in the Sand: Responding Peacefully to Hurtful Situations

I've written before about how important modeling behaviors has been in my parenting journey. Since Abbey became a toddler, I have been adamant about trying to set a good example of how to be kind and self-disciplined. But this week, I had an experience that both challenged that practice, and cemented my commitment.

Let's start by saying that I am by no means a perfect model. I struggle with anxiety issues, and often, I snap, panicking a bit and saying things I wish I hadn't, or yelling about something that didn't merit yelling. But for the most part, I think I do a pretty good job of setting a calm and compassionate model for Abbey and Joe to follow.

Tuesday. . . that calm, that practice in compassion . . . was tested quite well.

I was eating lunch with four friends of mine with our one-year olds cheerfully snagging food off our plates and our toddlers and preschoolers playing together in the community room of a local restaurant. There was another group of moms eating lunch in the community area, and Abbey, being her normally investigative self, introduced herself and played with their children, two girls Abbey's age (one of which we knew from our church) and one older girl (approx. age 5).

I was listening and to Abbey as she played, and there were a couple of normal, heated preschooler conversations regarding whose turn it was to play with a certain toy, but there was never a time that Abbey did or said anything that would merit what came next. My friends and I were carrying on conversation about the return of our husbands' Coast Guard Cutter, and discussing Easter plans, as one of the moms from the other group approached us.

"Excuse me, hi" she interrupted. "We'd like to let you know - we don't want your daughter playing with our girls. Let them play and have your daughter stay away while we're here."

- - - 

Um, what?

Mama Bear wanted to lash out. I wanted to cause a scene. I was really angry. I was hurt, for my daughter and for myself. But I drew a line in the sand that I would not cross.

• I will not be virulent, and I will not be petty, I told myself. It was hard not to say "And why do you feel entitled to exclude my daughter from free play with others her age, in a common, public area?" or "Did something happen?" or . . . "Seriously, what's wrong with you?" 

• Part of me actually wanted to not even dignify the statement with a response at all, and to leave my child exactly where she was. She was content, she wasn't bothering anyone, and taking her away from the girls she was playing with and their mothers made her upset. 

• But I took the exclusion, judgement, and rudeness - - - I absorbed it, quickly processed it, and took my child from the coffee table where she and the other little girls were gathered, playing. . . comforting her as she cried and screamed over why I was moving her from "[her] friends"

"Let's just go, Abbey." I said as I removed her (probably too quickly for comfort, but I was seething with anger) "We're not welcome with these friends."

. . . cue the crying and screaming "why?!!!" "It's not fair! I don't want to go!"

Me: "I know that it hurts - - - it isn't nice - - - your friend's mommy said 'go away' to you, but our friends over here love us and really really want to play with us. You see Delylah and Ava and Preston and Lucas and your brother Joe? They want to play with you and all of mommy's friends love you."

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Abbey: "But I want to play with my other friends."

Me: "I understand, Abbey, but even though it's not fair and it's not nice, when someone asks us to do something, we listen if we can, right?"

Abbey: "uh huh. but. . . "

Me: "But nothing. I'm sorry Abbey. Abbey, go play with your brother and your friends. Mommy's right here if you need me. Kiss, beautiful girl?"

- - - 

I probably could have come up with something better to say, but that was all that I could manage. My heart was pounding. I was rambling and stuttering as I tried to keep my composure. My adrenaline was rushing. My blood pressure was screaming, and panic was pushing at my body.

I could have exploded, I was so angry and so hurt for my daughter as I held her in my arms and comforted her.

In hindsight, my explanation to Abbey was a bit passive aggressive. . . but it was what it was.

- - - 

"Sorry about that, ladies" I said to my friends as I sat back down after Abbey was calm.

"Oh, you don't have to apologize at all" said one of my friends. "That was incredibly rude. Poor Abbey."

"You handled it a lot better than I would have," remarked my other friend. Both of my friends were making no effort to hide their disgust over what had just happened. "I would have gone all mama bear, screamed at her, and would probably be in tears right now if I were you. I admire your composure."

"Thanks, guys" I said with a half smile. "But I don't feel composed. My heart's beating out of my chest and I just want to break down and cry."

I think the thing that hurt even more than the prissy, nonchalant statement that my daughter, for no apparent reason, needed to be removed from the other group's presence and stay away from their children was the fact that one of the moms in that group was an acquaintance of ours from church. She said a friendly hello to me when we came into the community room, and was all smiles as Abbey played with her daughter, but said nothing as Abbey was banished from play, without any reason being given. And said nothing to me as she and her friends gathered their things and sauntered out of the community room - as if they could not bear to be in our presence any longer.

And to think - as those other moms were preparing to leave (just seconds after my friends clearly voiced their disgust over Abbey being excluded from play) . . . one of their infants was crying in her stroller, and Abbey got up from where she was resting on an armchair near the baby and reached into the stroller, stroking the baby's hand and cooing "Oh, sweet baby. Its OK. You're mommy is right over there. She'll be back in a minute, baby."

That's the little girl they felt compelled to make a loud statement to exclude from playing with their kids?

*sigh* Some people just make zero sense. Abbey was hurt, and I was angry, but I chose to model forgiveness and composure for my children when faced with a really ugly situation. It wasn't easy, but I drew my line n the sand and didn't cross over to anger until after the aggressor had left my presence.

- - - 

Have you ever found yourself in a terrible, awkward, or inappropriate situation regarding your child?

How would you have reacted had you been in my shoes?

Any advice for keeping it cool when situations like this unfold?