Mumsaid not to wade in the shallow gene pool
Dear Self-Righteous Wench at the Library,
As I stated in our brief conversation, thank you for telling me what you needed. I will say this one more time: While I respect your right to quiet, I do not appreciate you telling me how to raise my children. You are lucky I didn't bitch-slap you. I am rather proud of myself for not even yelling.
Allow me to elaborate:
I brought my children to the library to offer them a developmentally appropriate educational experience while spending (please forgive the cliche) "quality time" with a parent. We haven't been to the library as regularly as we used to, and were very excited to be able to make the trip on this particular evening. My ten year old mildly autistic son requires help finding books because the number of choices on the shelves is completely overwhelming. He reads at least at a twelfth grade level, yet possesses social understanding that is far below that of his peers. This makes finding books rather difficult. I found a small selection for him to peruse while I supervised my Littlest One, a girl who is nearing two.
We call her Pattergirl. She is at the "drunken monkey" stage in her life and it can be either great fun or thoroughly frustrating. She is interested in everything she sees, from the wholesome goodness of puzzles in her room to the rank pile of turds in her diaper. The whole world is fascinating and wonderful, except for the demon that Momma calls "the vacuum." The library is no exception. Shelf upon shelf of books, movies, and music! Little chairs to drag around and a giant bean bag to jump on! And every last bit of it MUST be explored! THAT, my once-respected elder, is how she learns.
I sat on a stool, perusing DVDs and CDs, selecting media that would be tolerable (to my husband and I) and interesting (for my children). Green Warrior sat quietly on said giant bean bag and Pattergirl touched everything she could touch within the few minutes her attention span allowed for each section of the one-room library. I both verbally encouraged and verbally redirected her. I was unaware of your presence because my attention was focused on the care of my children and the protection of the things that Pattergirl explored.
Your approach was belittling to say the least. "I am trying to work over there, so if you could keep your voice down...she [your adorably inquisitive daughter] is not going to learn what a library voice is unless you teach her." I was rendered momentarily speechless, my entire being and surroundings frozen in surreal disbelief at the possibility of someone addressing me in such a condescending manner. I don't even know if I responded before you went to sit back down.
Once I shook off the positively awful feeling of having been scolded, I became enraged. My surroundings seemed to vibrate as my body was enveloped in what must have been a fight or flight response. Ears pounding, eyes blinded by the spinning of the room, arms tingling...I packed up our selections, picked up my Littlest One, informed Green Warrior of the security breach, and flew back to where you sat. "Excuse me, ma'am," I said, pausing to allow your head to turn towards me before I promptly bit it off. "While I appreciate you telling me what you needed and respect your right to a peaceful library, I do NOT appreciate you telling me how to raise my children." You attempted a retort, but I interrupted with an emphatic "NO. I DO NOT appreciate YOU telling me how to raise my children." I believe as I turned to leave you tried to say something about "our library" but I was finished with our conversation. Truthfully, I had to walk away before I said anything else at a volume that was anything but a "library voice." Green Warrior asked what was wrong as I walked purposefully to the checkout counter. (I think he actually had to jog to keep up. I told him I would explain later, which I did.) I quietly informed the librarian of my ill feeling and the exchange that caused it. I did not expect assistance from her, I politely explained, I just needed to explain my attitude towards her should it seem rude. (She followed me out to the parking lot, the dear heart, and told me how good my children actually were.)
I do not naturally speak at an offensive decibel, nor do my children. I do not yell at my children, nor do they yell at others. We raise voices when necessary, when a child is in danger to oneself or others, but voice level remains a non-issue. Perhaps you would prefer me to shut up and spank her, consequently teaching her to fear me and to equate trips to the library with dread. Perhaps you should shut up and leave the rearing of my children TO ME, given that my actions were not abusive or illegal. I have seen bad parenting. I do not claim perfection, but I certainly do not require intervention. Especially from someone so misguided in the area of child development.
At 23 months, a child is a concrete thinker. Voice level, a relatively abstract concept, is somewhat foreign. A toddler explores the environment with hands, feet, and the occasional taste bud. Pattergirl had no interest in loud conversation. She was interested solely in the "moo-fees" and books. Her interest being somewhat destructive (perfectly age appropriate behavior), I conversed with her about how to interact with library materials without damaging them. This, my uneducated patron of "our library," is a developmentally appropriate focus to the majority of our ventures into public arenas.
If you had simply said, "I am trying to work over there, so if you could keep your voice down please" I would have apologized, made fun of your hat within the confines of my own mind, and guided my daughter and her "moo-fees" elsewhere. I understand that I may have disturbed you. However, it was ME that you should have referred to, not the rearing of my children.
From this encounter, my children will learn. They will learn that the library has a plethora of books, "moo-fees," and CDs from which to choose. They will learn that you may speak up for yourself, but must remain polite in doing so. They will learn that bitch-slapping someone for being an uneducated wench is unacceptable. They will learn that you can call people any name you want when you are no longer in public. They will learn that using a more sophisticated vocabulary when telling someone to "fuck off" is often more effective than the actual profanity itself. They will learn that anger is valid but must be controlled, even if that makes you melt into a sobbing mess afterward. They will learn that melting into a sobbing mess is acceptable and appropriate when you are no longer in public. Aaand they will learn that someone who seems intelligent might actually turn out to be an uneducated wench. They will also learn that uneducated wenches might have sadness that causes them to be self-righteous and rude, but that doesn't make self-righteous and rude behavior acceptable. They will learn that even though you call someone a "stupid bitch" you can still ask God to take care of her, just don't refer to her as a "stupid bitch" when asking.
I hope you were able to get some work done after us big noisy hoosiers done lef' the liberry. And I do hope to see you again. I am very passive-aggressive, you know, and I just might teach Pattergirl a thing or two about how to use resentment to one's advantage.
See you soon!
Caryn
As I stated in our brief conversation, thank you for telling me what you needed. I will say this one more time: While I respect your right to quiet, I do not appreciate you telling me how to raise my children. You are lucky I didn't bitch-slap you. I am rather proud of myself for not even yelling.
Allow me to elaborate:
I brought my children to the library to offer them a developmentally appropriate educational experience while spending (please forgive the cliche) "quality time" with a parent. We haven't been to the library as regularly as we used to, and were very excited to be able to make the trip on this particular evening. My ten year old mildly autistic son requires help finding books because the number of choices on the shelves is completely overwhelming. He reads at least at a twelfth grade level, yet possesses social understanding that is far below that of his peers. This makes finding books rather difficult. I found a small selection for him to peruse while I supervised my Littlest One, a girl who is nearing two.
We call her Pattergirl. She is at the "drunken monkey" stage in her life and it can be either great fun or thoroughly frustrating. She is interested in everything she sees, from the wholesome goodness of puzzles in her room to the rank pile of turds in her diaper. The whole world is fascinating and wonderful, except for the demon that Momma calls "the vacuum." The library is no exception. Shelf upon shelf of books, movies, and music! Little chairs to drag around and a giant bean bag to jump on! And every last bit of it MUST be explored! THAT, my once-respected elder, is how she learns.
I sat on a stool, perusing DVDs and CDs, selecting media that would be tolerable (to my husband and I) and interesting (for my children). Green Warrior sat quietly on said giant bean bag and Pattergirl touched everything she could touch within the few minutes her attention span allowed for each section of the one-room library. I both verbally encouraged and verbally redirected her. I was unaware of your presence because my attention was focused on the care of my children and the protection of the things that Pattergirl explored.
Your approach was belittling to say the least. "I am trying to work over there, so if you could keep your voice down...she [your adorably inquisitive daughter] is not going to learn what a library voice is unless you teach her." I was rendered momentarily speechless, my entire being and surroundings frozen in surreal disbelief at the possibility of someone addressing me in such a condescending manner. I don't even know if I responded before you went to sit back down.
Once I shook off the positively awful feeling of having been scolded, I became enraged. My surroundings seemed to vibrate as my body was enveloped in what must have been a fight or flight response. Ears pounding, eyes blinded by the spinning of the room, arms tingling...I packed up our selections, picked up my Littlest One, informed Green Warrior of the security breach, and flew back to where you sat. "Excuse me, ma'am," I said, pausing to allow your head to turn towards me before I promptly bit it off. "While I appreciate you telling me what you needed and respect your right to a peaceful library, I do NOT appreciate you telling me how to raise my children." You attempted a retort, but I interrupted with an emphatic "NO. I DO NOT appreciate YOU telling me how to raise my children." I believe as I turned to leave you tried to say something about "our library" but I was finished with our conversation. Truthfully, I had to walk away before I said anything else at a volume that was anything but a "library voice." Green Warrior asked what was wrong as I walked purposefully to the checkout counter. (I think he actually had to jog to keep up. I told him I would explain later, which I did.) I quietly informed the librarian of my ill feeling and the exchange that caused it. I did not expect assistance from her, I politely explained, I just needed to explain my attitude towards her should it seem rude. (She followed me out to the parking lot, the dear heart, and told me how good my children actually were.)
I do not naturally speak at an offensive decibel, nor do my children. I do not yell at my children, nor do they yell at others. We raise voices when necessary, when a child is in danger to oneself or others, but voice level remains a non-issue. Perhaps you would prefer me to shut up and spank her, consequently teaching her to fear me and to equate trips to the library with dread. Perhaps you should shut up and leave the rearing of my children TO ME, given that my actions were not abusive or illegal. I have seen bad parenting. I do not claim perfection, but I certainly do not require intervention. Especially from someone so misguided in the area of child development.
At 23 months, a child is a concrete thinker. Voice level, a relatively abstract concept, is somewhat foreign. A toddler explores the environment with hands, feet, and the occasional taste bud. Pattergirl had no interest in loud conversation. She was interested solely in the "moo-fees" and books. Her interest being somewhat destructive (perfectly age appropriate behavior), I conversed with her about how to interact with library materials without damaging them. This, my uneducated patron of "our library," is a developmentally appropriate focus to the majority of our ventures into public arenas.
If you had simply said, "I am trying to work over there, so if you could keep your voice down please" I would have apologized, made fun of your hat within the confines of my own mind, and guided my daughter and her "moo-fees" elsewhere. I understand that I may have disturbed you. However, it was ME that you should have referred to, not the rearing of my children.
From this encounter, my children will learn. They will learn that the library has a plethora of books, "moo-fees," and CDs from which to choose. They will learn that you may speak up for yourself, but must remain polite in doing so. They will learn that bitch-slapping someone for being an uneducated wench is unacceptable. They will learn that you can call people any name you want when you are no longer in public. They will learn that using a more sophisticated vocabulary when telling someone to "fuck off" is often more effective than the actual profanity itself. They will learn that anger is valid but must be controlled, even if that makes you melt into a sobbing mess afterward. They will learn that melting into a sobbing mess is acceptable and appropriate when you are no longer in public. Aaand they will learn that someone who seems intelligent might actually turn out to be an uneducated wench. They will also learn that uneducated wenches might have sadness that causes them to be self-righteous and rude, but that doesn't make self-righteous and rude behavior acceptable. They will learn that even though you call someone a "stupid bitch" you can still ask God to take care of her, just don't refer to her as a "stupid bitch" when asking.
I hope you were able to get some work done after us big noisy hoosiers done lef' the liberry. And I do hope to see you again. I am very passive-aggressive, you know, and I just might teach Pattergirl a thing or two about how to use resentment to one's advantage.
See you soon!
Caryn
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