Being a Humble Parent

I would not describe myself as a smug person, but its becoming more and more apparent that I have problems with this.  Especially when it comes to parenting.  But the Good Lord has taken mercy on me (or on the people I quietly judge) and is actively buffing this character trait off of me.  I know this because it seems like every time I have been openly aware of feeling the “Look at me! I’m a parent and I’ve got my act together! Which is obvious by my kids outstanding behavior!” the Lord has been quick to make me feel like I have no business judging anyone, especially other parents.

Exhibit 1: I share this story because I feel like it’s the point when I first became aware that God was trying to teach me something.  We are at a park with another couple and (not naming names but you know who you are) their child pooped on the slide.  Not a little, but A Lot.  Clean up involved using toilet paper from a groddy public restroom and walking the child back home.  I remember feeling smug, Cedric never did stuff like that.

Until the next day, when he pooped TWO TIMES on the floor.  Why? Basically he just didn’t want to stop whatever activity he was doing to go to the bathroom.  Twice.  Have mercy!   The second time I was cleaning poo off the floor I had the thought go through my mind, “I have no business judging because it doesn’t matter how good of a parent you are, with kids, crap just happens sometimes.”

Exhibit 2: Yesterday the weather was fine and lovely so I put Eli in the stroller and let Cedric ride his bike after lunch.  After 3 blocks he was ready to turn around and go home for quiet time.  Yes, sometimes he is that kid who will say that he is tired and actually want to go to sleep.  So we turn around and he races down the block and speeds right through the cross walk into the next block.  Crossing the street without a grown up is Huge No-No.  I had prided myself that I had put enough fear in him about how badly it would hurt to get hit by a car that he would never mess up.  When I catch up with him, I am very stern and remind him about the horrors of death-by-car, and that when we get home he will be in trouble.

He rides to the end of the block and waits for me, like normal.  But while he is waiting I see a couple start talking to him.  When I reach the corner I’m assailed with, “You ‘is mom?  Oh good, ‘cause we was wondering whereisyourparentsat?! Thank goodness he knows to stop before the street but we was still wondering whereisyourparentsat?”  I look at the man talking to me.  He has an open beer in one hand and some teeth missing and a giant marijuana leaf on his shirt.  Public drinking, drug sympathies, and bad grammar; he has reached the trifecta of “bad parenting” in my judgment. And he is making me feel like an irresponsible parent.

I thank him for looking out for Cedric and he quips “Oh is no trouble.  You know this is a nice residential neighborhood.”   That God is trying to teach me something about judging is painfully obvious to me.  I’m pretty sure I walked the last block with my head hung.

I’m trying to remember every day that everyone is struggling with something and to extend grace before judgment.  Especially to parents.