Some background, in case you’ve missed it. My dad was an alcoholic. The summer before my second grade I had a birthday party and cookout. My mom took us to the park and when we returned he was plastered with the parents of another attendee. Things were thrown, my mom took us back to the park, stories (most likely embellished, but even if they weren’t certainly terrifying enough to make parents forbid kids from coming to my house) were told to parents, I entered the second grade and no one would talk to me. It didn’t help that I was already pretty awkward and loved being the teacher’s pet.

My mom took in latchkey kids for extra cash. One, S., was forced to include me in all of her events, including a pool party at her house at the end of the year. S told me I shouldn’t go, that it wouldn’t be fun, that we wouldn’t be able to use the pool, etc. I wasn’t stupid. I knew what she was getting at. I begged my mom not to make me go, but she went on and on about how lucky I was to be included, how fun it would be, how she wished she had such rich friends when she was a kid (yup, she actually said that).

At the party I had a great time. I loved swimming, and though most of the girls were avoiding me, I barely noticed there was so much to do by myself. (They even had a DIVING BOARD!!!) Then S. called us all into a huddle the way only second-grade girls can. She talked about how much fun we were going to have and how great the sleepover was going to be and how we “all love everyone who’s here…well except for one person, but she doesn’t know who she is.” Only she did.

As calmly as I could I walked into the house and called my mom to come get me. I kept it together until I was on the phone and my mom just wasn’t understanding. When I started bawling she told me to “grow up and get over it” and hung up. S.’s mom got me a glass of water, but I don’t know if she heard my story. She showed me how to use cool water to make my red eyes less noticeable (not that it helped) and sent me back out with a plate of cookies.

On Monday one girl had lice and it was said I gave it to her at the party. Songs were sung about me and lice and my general disgustingness. I got over it.

People turned down my invitations. I wasn’t invited to every party. I don’t remember a single one of those. I do remember the sneers, the statements of “my mom is making me invite you,” the mean notes inside thank you notes and invitation cards and Valentines. Kids are mean. You can’t force your kids to be nice. Trying to get them to invite the kid they don’t like only teaches them to be disingenuous and increases the divide between them and the outcast.

I’m all for getting your kid to try new things, to invite the new kid, to step out of her comfort zone. But I will never force mine to invite the me-equivalent. Maybe I’ll suggest it, and if they so no we’ll try to talk about it. But forcing the issue is doing the outcast no favors. We may want our kid to be the one who doesn’t care about being popular, or who cares more about being nice and fair than being popular, but it isn’t fair to make that choice for them. And it’s a really hard choice to make when your entire world is school. I don’t think I could do it.

And if my kid ends up being the outcast, as I think everyone is at some point in his life, I’ll listen and give him hugs and make sure he knows that he isn’t an outcast with me and that there is NOTHING wrong with him. I’ll find him other activities outside of school. Mostly I’ll try to help him understand that we can’t change the way other people act, only how we respond.

Somedays I hate the playground. Most frustratingly, I tend to hate the playground the worst on the days Reed loves it the best—those with the most kids.

Sand in my jeans, sand in my house, the possibility of falling off the ladder or running into a swinging child, the sometimes sharp toys brought by kids, the food I forgot to bring (oh, but how nice that everyone shared today), eating the wood chips, falling off the bench, trying to climb the fence and splitting open a chin, having to make small talk with some of the more intimidating moms and nannies. All these things are worth the fun we normally have.

But there’s one thing that makes my heart race. It’s going to sound ridiculous, and it’s not what you think. But I hate when a mom goes to sit or stand right next to her kid when he or she is playing with Reed.

I tend to hang back. I don’t think Reed needs my constant presence, and I like him being able to interact with other kids without me, able to solve his own smaller problems. And if another kid takes a toy Reed’s playing with he’ll usually either grab another to play with, try to take it back, or come to me. I’ll step in if there’s a problem: a crying kid, any sort of hitting. I leave it alone otherwise.

But we’ve had problems with other moms stepping in too early and causing a problem. The worst was over an airplane. A really, really cool airplane. A boy brought it and was playing with it in the sandbox. Because his mom was right on top of him I decided to sit near them on the sandbox rim. Reed asked very nicely (signing and speaking his little “pEEAse!”) and was told by the mom that he could use it when her son was done. He sat waiting and watching the kid play with airplane for a good 5 or 6 minutes. Then the kid put it to the side and started digging in the sand. Reed took the toy and was having a great time making airplane noises and playing gently. The other mom got off the phone and saw him, I had made a phone call so I wasn’t paying that much attention, but I heard her ask her kid if he wanted his airplane back. And then took it from Reed and handed it over. Reed was FURIOUS! And who could blame him? He did exactly what he was told to do, waited patiently, and wasn’t hurting anyone. All that work and someone changed the rules.

I almost decked her. How could she be such a flaming asshat? Her kid hadn’t even seemed to notice. And Reed hadn’t run off with it or anything; they were playing right next to each other.

I tried interesting Reed in something else, I tried getting him onto the slide, but nothing was calming him down. So we had to leave. And I wish that I had said something, even now, weeks later. Her kid was at least a year older than Reed, much more mature and vocal, though the same size. And I know that people assume Reed is about 3 or so, since he’s the same size as most 3-year-olds at the park, and they expect him to act a little older, but even still, this was an awful thing to do.

The other time doesn’t really seem as bad to me, though when I put it in words people seem to get more upset about it. Reed was throwing sand. And I was two steps away to stop him when a nanny grabbed his hand and told him “no.” He wasn’t close enough to get any kid with the sand, though I was still going to stop him. It really wasn’t necessary for someone else to step in. I don’t approve of other people disciplining my kid unless we know them or there’s danger involved, for him or another kid. Okay, not exactly true, she could have told him not to throw the sand, but don’t touch my kid. If there’d been even one other kid in the sandbox I would have understood.

Anyway, I’m always worried about these lines being crossed. I worry that I’m not doing a good enough job parenting my kid, that I’m letting him be too much on his own and pissing off the other parents. I don’t know if I’m right or wrong in this situation. I don’t know if I’m being unfair to the other kids. But 90% of the time Reed and the other kids get along well, it’s only when the other people step in that we’ve had issues.

Where are your boundaries? Am I wrong about the airplane? Would you have taken it away? I know I would have if Reed had grabbed it or the other kid had been really upset. Without thinking, it would have gone back to the kid. But I never would have given it back to Reed if it had been his toy. We share. And he needs to learn that. Maybe the kid has developmental issues, it’s what I’ve been telling myself, but I still don’t understand bringing it up if both kids were happily playing.

As a child I wasn’t treated as well as we all should be. I don’t think that it’s necessary to get into it in detail, but it’s something that I think I need to say. It affects me every day that I spend with Reed. It’s a whisper in my ear for every decision that I make. Basically it’s important for me to tell you this, even if it isn’t important to you.

I don’t let Reed cry. I don’t think that people who let their children cry-it-out are bad people. I believe that is a decision each family needs to make for itself. But we don’t let Reed cry. I have this fear that mistreating a child is a little like alcoholism, and so, just as I don’t drink alone or ever have more than one drink in a sitting, I don’t let Reed cry. This doesn’t mean I think people who let their children cry are mistreating their children any more than I think people who have an occasional drink alone or order two drinks at a bar are alcoholics. I’m just afraid that there’s a slippery slope for some of us.

Another example: I am afraid of people who yell at their kids.

I am not a coward. I apologize too much, and I may be timid at times, but I am not a coward.

Really.

But when someone yells in my presence I have a desire to run away. It doesn’t matter if they’re yelling at a dog or merely to have their voice heard across the street. Every muscle in my body tightens up and I can feel my heart beat in my throat. And with Reed it is worse. If Reed is near me I suddenly have a keen understanding of where each and every exit is, where the crowd is thinnest, where that tree is that I might hide behind.

I think I can get over this. I think I can prevent myself from passing along this fear to Reed. Although, please don’t take this to mean that it’s okay to yell in my presence. I really don’t find it an effective form of communication.

What really scares me, what gives me nightmares is yelling myself. I worry about losing control and kicking in a door. Or hitting him. Or knocking him down. Or telling him “y’know, I wanted a life, too.” I have lost control of my anger in the past. And, like being drunk, the moment isn’t ever too clear in my memory. Mostly it was during high school and college, the only recent time being after one of the cats took a swipe at Reed when he was a tiny, tiny baby (you may have noticed I don’t speak of my cats anymore, they’re in good loving homes now).

I believe I’m more in control of my emotions now. And I’ve never hurt anyone. But I’m terrified of it anyway. I can’t imagine anyone ever thinking they had the capacity to hurt a child. I can’t imagine that if anyone loved a child as much as I love Reed that they could ever lose control of their anger, but I know that it happens every day. Can you really say, without a shadow of a doubt, that it could never be you if you know that it’s possible for other people?

And every little thing that Reed does reminds me of a parallel in my own childhood. And I thought that would make it bad, like picking at a really old scab or re-breaking a bone. Honestly? There’s a relief in it. Maybe it’s that each day with Reed I’m able to rewrite memories of what childhood is, even if it isn’t my own. Maybe it’s that I don’t need to remember that stuff anymore. Maybe it’s the feeling that I’m breaking that cycle. Maybe it’s just that I enjoy every minute of every day so much that there isn’t any room for anything worse less than that.

And these are the things that go through my head. These are the things that I’m really trying to share when I talk about values. And I have been trying for months now to figure out how to write this without embarrassing my family, whom I love. But these things need to be written. Because I need to figure out the mathematical principles of love and discipline, of safety, security, and boundaries. I need to learn how to hold on to my children without crushing them, and the formula wasn’t written down for me by my own parents.

I just finished Big Lessons for Little People, which is amazing. It’s sort of the whole reason for this post. There’s a section that talks about parents afraid to yell at their kids and all the damage that may cause. It’s amazing. I really think that just about everyone should read it, even if you don’t agree with everything she says.