Disregarding Dignity

This is a warning to all you parents who think that your pride has any hope of remaining intact during the course of your child’s upbringing . Because heed my words: they will do everything they can to seek and destroy what little bit of dignity you have left. I know this sounds like some sort of conspiracy theory. Because I’m certainly not accusing our children of doing it intentionally.

But they are out to get us.

Before they finally skip off into the sunset of adulthood, expect to be horrified, mortified, humiliated and flat out humbled on multiple occasions, in varying scenarios, in every location – most always public.

You probably already know what I’m talking about. You probably have your own laundry list of mortifying moments  to share. If not? Well. Let me share a few of mine.

It’s baby poop on your pants without realizing it, and loud conversations about your privates in the public restroom stall, and climbing on you, hooking their foot and pulling your bathing suit off in the pool, and reaching up from the grocery cart and grabbing your chest to “honk, honk” you in the check out lane, and opening the restroom door and walking out before you’re done, and pointing out the “reeeally really big fat lady” on the bus (full disclosure, that was me at three), and screaming how much they hate their food when your new friend made them dinner, and never ever ever saying hello or good-bye or please or thank you no matter how many times you insist that they do, or announcing the play by play of exactly what you’re doing while holed up in another public restroom.

(Clearly, the public restroom has been a source of much humiliation.)

They are honest. They are saying and doing what they experience. Etiquette and social niceties and even basic manners just don’t come naturally to preschoolers. We try desperately to encourage this instinct, and I think (hope?) it comes eventually. But until then, expect to be booby-trapped at any moment, where your pride falls through a trap door and into the pit of your stomach as you realize your kid has found and unwrapped a tampon (previously zipped away in your purse) and is swinging it for all the customers in the check out line to enjoy (full disclosure: my friend’s experience, not mine).

These moments. They happen all the time. Seared into your memory, convincing your ego you should never set foot in that particular store, friend’s home, or public restroom (so many of those) again.

But these moments also force you to stand nose to nose with your ego and tell yourself to get the hell over it.

Like when you are getting your kids ready for a pool party and trying to smear as much SPF onto your wriggling child as you can and while you’re distracted wrestling him, another smaller child happens to stuff something down the back of your sundress. And you aren’t sure what it was so you ignore it but make a mental note to check your dress after you’re done with this (“SIT STILL!!!”) and then you leave without checking but remember you need cash so you stop at the busy corner ATM. And while waiting in line you glance over at your reflection in the window and notice something not quite right. Oh ok. Now you know what got stuffed down your sundress. A pair of your underpants. Which happen to be sticking out the back of your sundress, sticking out like a little hoodie or cape, but clearly pink underpants, yours, sticking out and flapping in the breeze for everyone in the ATM line to see.

(What did I do? I snapped them off and balled them into my hand and made my transaction as if nothing ever happened. And, no surprise here, I didn’t make eye contact with a soul as I stomped back to the care. And stuffed them into the glove box. Where they remained until yesterday when I remembered to get them out and stuff them into my purse when I dropped off my car for an oil change. But it’s a big purse and I have to dig around to find my wallet to pay for said oil change. So I’m pretty sure the Kia guy at the front desk got a good look see at them too. Yay, Hanes Her Way, in pink, is everybody happy now???)

Parenting requires a very large dose of self-deprecation. And humor. And resignation that your dignity means nothing in a restroom stall as long as every little one got a pee pee in the potty and are entirely wiped and hands were washed.

Onward. Who cares. Pride swallowed. I’m over it. Pink panties stuffed where ever, so be it. Thanks and have a nice day.