Having three kids means my time is divided amongst them; someone usually feels I am not paying her or him enough attention. Every so often, then, I like to take each one of my kids out of the house and do something special, just the two of us. This past weekend, it was Hannah’s turn. We had to purchase a gift for her friend’s birthday party, so we stopped for an ice cream treat at one of the mall’s restaurants.  

Sitting in the booth directly behind me was a couple and their young child, probably three or four years old. The little girl was complaining that she couldn’t eat anymore.

I’m not hungry, and you can’t make me eat if I’m not hungry.

She’s got a point, I thought to myself. I’ve learned not to battle my kids over food and certainly never to force food on them. They’ll eat when they’re hungry.

Sit down, and eat. NOW! said her mother through clenched teeth. The tension was palpable.

But I’m not hungry! You can’t make me eat! The girl was growing more and more agitated, and it was clear she was about to blow. I glanced at Hannah who was trying not to notice what was going on.

I don’t give a crap about what you want, hissed her father. You sit your ass down now and eat your goddamned food! With that, Hannah looked up, eyes open wide with shock.

My blood was boiling.

It was enough that the man was using those filthy words in earshot of my daughter, but he was spewing them at his own, very young child. While I don’t know about the specifics of what was happening at their booth before Hannah and I arrived, I’m sure I could imagine. After all, we’ve gone out many times with our own children who’ve ultimately exhibited appalling behavior. I get parental frustrations.

I don’t claim to be a saint, or even a perfect parent. I have lost my patience with my own children more times that I can count. However, there is no justification for speaking to a child, much less your own, in such a way. After all, would you speak to another adult like that? (maybe he would)

I was very close to turning around and asking the man to not use that language in front of my daughter, but thankfully they got up and huffed away. I realize, too, that there is a fine line between wanting to interject my own opinions and potentially making matters worse.

Wow! They were really mean, said Hannah.

*************

Incidents like that are precisely why I began a site like Root & Sprout. Unfortunately, it’s not the only time I’ve been witness to those public displays of non-affection. To reiterate Root & Sprout’s philosophy:

“Here at Root & Sprout, we believe the connection between parent and child is what’s most important, and it’s a relationship that grows through mutual love and respect. With gentle, hands-on parenting, we can give our children the necessary roots to help them sprout.”

We don’t help our children grow by yelling, ruling with an iron fist, or being too permisive. I grew up with with a mom and dad on opposite ends of the spectrum. While I didn’t often question their love for me, they sure showed it in a funny way. My dad had no qualms about parenting through fear. He spanked, threatened (and followed-thru on those threats), and generally ruled like the trained soldier he was. My mother, on the other hand, didn’t have much control over her children. Fortunately for her, I pretty much kept to myself and didn’t bother anyone. My mother is a recovering alcoholic, and I learned to fend for myself from a very early age. While I have absolutely no relationship with my father, my mother and I have managed to work out our differences. I love her very much. Depsite how much I love her and have forgiven her, however, I can’t forget the times she pulled my hair, slapped my face, hit me with a brush, or called me despicable names.

May God strike me down if I ever leave me own children with such memories.

I hope you can understand, then, the reasons why I want Root & Sprout to succeed. Not only does having such a site satisfy my creative needs, it’s helping me, in a way, to heal.

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