When it comes to quick-witted comebacks, I usually fall short. Oh, the times I’ve replayed a scene in my head imagining what I should have said in response to someone who has offended me. So it was last week when a woman commented on the lack of vegetables on my 16-month-old’s plate.
We were on our way home from a play date when, realizing an empty pantry awaited at home, I stopped for lunch at a neighborhood restaurant. It was an unseasonably warm day, so we grabbed a spot at a picnic table outside. Toward the end of our meal, a family asked if they could share our table. The mom of the group greeted me as they sat down. Then in a sing-song voice she turned to address my daughter.
“And what are we having for lunch today?”
“We’re having grilled cheese,” I answered, matching the woman’s pitch with my own cheery tone.
“Oh, I see… and… where’s the vegetable?” The woman’s eyes were still trained on my daughter, but an accusatory tone had crept into her voice.
“Uh, she doesn’t like apples,” I stammered, motioning to the sliced fruit that had come with the sandwich. It wasn’t a vegetable, but my first reaction was to assure the woman that my daughter ate a well-balanced diet with lots of fruits and vegetables–even if there happened to be none on her plate.
Then, I remembered the salad.
“She ate all of the carrots on my salad,” I added, eager to make her understand.
But the woman had moved on, avoiding eye contact with me entirely. Apparently she’d seen enough.
On the walk home, I seethed, thinking of the things I should have said. She’s allergic to greens, I muttered to myself as I pushed the stroller uphill. We only eat vegetables we’ve grown ourselves, I smirked, as I lugged the stroller up our stoop. Neither of these things was true, of course, but they seemed sufficiently absurd to prove a point.
This wasn’t the first time I had explained my parenting choices to a complete stranger. Once a nanny scolded me for not having my daughter’s head covered on a cold day. Never mind that the child was otherwise bundled to the hilt, or that she’d pulled her hat off 10 times.
I waved the rejected hat in the air, exclaiming, “She won’t wear it! We’re not going far!”
The nanny shook her head in disapproval and crossed the street.
I realized a pattern was emerging. The people-pleaser in me couldn’t stand criticism, no matter how misplaced. As a new parent, perhaps I’d been too concerned with justifying my actions when it was really none of anyone’s business.
I made a pact with myself that the next time someone commented on my parenting, I would pause before responding. If I couldn’t think of a quick, witty retort, I wouldn’t say anything at all. Like most parents, I was doing the best I could. There was no need to explain anything to anyone.
