We’re in the middle of snowmaggedon right now, and while it’s nice it’s still chilly. We spend about 10 minutes getting Reed dressed every time we go out, and I still worry that he’s too cold (mostly because I am too cold). But we got down to the plaza and there was this baby with his parents screaming his head off. He looked like he was about four months old. And he was NOT wearing enough. He had a pants, a shirt, and a sweatshirt with a hood pulled up.

The couple came over to say hi (because usually you can count on people around hi to be nice and non-judgmental–at least until after you’ve left). They tried to get the baby to take notice of Reed and smile and maybe calm down a little. And I just couldn’t stop myself when his mom said, “He’s usually so happy to be out.”

“He needs gloves,” I said. “It’s cold.” Which is true! But she replied that he didn’t like gloves and walked away. It wasn’t like they were abusing the poor kid, but where do you draw the line in speaking up about kids that look like they may need a little more attention? The hands in question were bright red, and being out for only a few minutes I was already losing feeling in my toes. I was torn because I wanted to tell them about the bunting thing we’d had (which covered feet and hands without needing gloves) and wanting to keep my mouth closed, because it isn’t fair to assume that they’re stupid enough to take their son out in such cold weather dressed so poorly.

I’ve heard of people being told that their child wouldn’t be able to breathe with the plastic covering sold with their stroller, had people tell me that Reed shouldn’t be allowed to walk around the plaza as far from me as I let him, and had my mother tell me that Reed was very unsafe being carried by me. I know all of these people are acting with love in their hearts, as I was, but I still hate these people just a little.

Of course we used to raise our children as a village, with multiple generations having input. I don’t know. Should I be changing my opinion of busybodies? Or should I keep chastising myself for being one myself?

We move too fast and too easily through our lives now. We miss out on the spaces between events. I believe in the importance of pauses. I try to force these breaks: taking the train instead of the plane, walking most places with my kids, cooking dinners and baking from scratch. I want my kids to know that instantaneous does not mean best.

Family members have offered us deals on their older cars, have suggested various pre-made foods when they eat over (is my cooking not good enough?), to pay for airline tickets. They don’t understand that these are choices I’ve made based on something other than the monetary cost. There is a higher cost that I can’t explain without the shorthand of religion and faith.

Reed (2.5 yrs) is beginning to catch on to waiting. I let him watch too much TV—which in my mind right now is ANY—but when I tell him he needs to occupy himself for a little while he’ll generally find a car or crayon. I don’t expect this to last. I’m sure he’ll head off to school and quickly realize not everyone takes a full day to get to Boston. Not everyone takes a few hours to go to pick up groceries. But maybe I can instill in him some small seed that helps him know it isn’t always bad to wait. That you can want things for awhile and not suffer in the meantime. That the journey can be just as important and valuable as the destination.

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.

We are currently (very slowly) reading Harry Potter to Reed. We’ve been reading chapter books to him at bedtime since the day we brought him home from the hospital. We will continue to do so until he tells us he’s sick of it. Maybe longer. We enjoy it and he seems to.

We’ve just met Hermione Granger on the train and the discussion the kids have about the Houses rung true to me. I’ve taken all the silly “tests” about which House I’d be in, and, while I think they’re rubbish, I do think that everyone really knows which House they’d be in. Because it isn’t about what you’d be good at, it’s truly about what you value. If the Gryffindor House were really only for the brave then Cedric Diggory would have been placed there, as well as others. And it would have been far less likely that Ron’s whole family would have been placed in the same house. I believe he was placed there because Ron’s parents did a fantastic job of passing on their values (although why Ron’s mom can’t knit a shirt herself and used sew-on patches for the Christmas sweaters really troubles me, it’s one thing not to knit at all, but to use MAGIC for KNITTING? UGH!).

Gryffindor values duty, or, as it is put elsewhere, chivalry. People find their true duty often contradicts laws and authority, as clearly happens time and again in Harry Potter. Ravenclaw values the attainment of knowledge. Slytherin values power ambition. And Hufflepuff values loyalty. (The difference between duty and loyalty? Don Quixote and Sancho Panza. Or the Tick and Arthur.)

So, in trying to flesh out the values I want to teach Reed (who, poor kid, gets to be my guinea pig) I’m finding it easier to ask myself, “What would get him into Gryffindor?” Valuing friendship, honesty, risk-taking, bravery, standing up for the less fortunate and downtrodden. The truth is that it’s just vague enough to be a good stepping stone. Also, it makes it easier for me to not discount other people’s value systems. Sometimes I’m far too judgmental, and it really isn’t something I want to pass on to Reed.

So what about you? What is your North Star for these evaluations, whether religious, fictional, familial, etc. ? Or am I the only crazy one who thinks about these things as I lay in bed waiting for my son to fall back asleep or start crying so I can decide either go back to sleep or get myself up?