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embarrassment & a rule

A piece of advice I remember encountering in a number of adoption parenting books:

“Your kids will embarrass you. It will happen. Be prepared.”

And, for the most part, I have been. Things going a-whirly in the supermarket? No problem, we leave. Screaming and sulking at Church, we find a corner to chill. Asking “why are they fat?” around obese people, took it in stride.

But a few weeks back I had my watershed (so far) embarrassing moment. Looking back I can laugh (sort of), but I still wince a bit.

You see, Renee and I have been slow to learn a cardinal rule with our girls. This very important rule:

Thou shall not drastically violate bedtime.

The circus came to town. My brother-in-law bought tickets for the 7:00 (pm) show. The entire  family went to see elephants, tigers, clowns, motorcycle cages (the coolest part), contortionists, and lots of very loud music. We also drank soda and ate some candy. By around 8:00 (the midpoint of the show), both Monica and Kelly’s little bodies were constantly twitching with adrenline and over stimulation. You could hear Kelly’s brain cells popping in unordered waves.

Not good.

We should have left at intermission. But we didn’t, and consequently didn’t get in our car until around 9:30…two hours past their normal bedtime.

While driving up I75 both girls loose it. It started with the typical run of the mill sisterly bickering. I was used to handling this, it being part of the average morning trip to school (as we say, no biggie). Typically, both girls can self-regulate and things don’t get out of hand. But Monica was tired, and didn’t feel like self-regulating, and, more to the point, decided to put her impulsive, rarely viewed, crazy-be-damned personality in control.

Now for whatever reason we drove our Toyota Matrix (as opposed to the normal Honda Element). This Matrix, unfortunately, doesn’t have child locks. Knowing the extreme irritation (read – terror) it would cause her parents, Monica announced she was going to open her door (she didn’t take her seatbelt off – that lesson apparently well rooted even in the face of defiance). As this was unacceptable, I ended up holding her hands for the rest of the ride home.

As we pulled into our (very safe) neighborhood, Renee had an idea: Get out of the car and let Monica walk that last block home.

I should explain the roots of this idea. It comes from a parenting book we love called “Parenting with Love and Logic” (or, as one friend likes to describe the book, “parenting with common sense”). The basic idea of the book is that you give your kids enough room to safely take on responsibility for their actions (ie naturaly consequences), but keep enough rules and restrictions in place to protect them. One idea in the book is if a kid is having a tantrum in the car (and assuming you’re on a safe road), let them get out of the car and walk a ways (you staying some feet ahead of them).

I should also add that our Mississippi adoptee-in-laws have found “walking the anger off” to be a successful parenting technique. If their kids are having a rough go, they’ll go for walks in the woods and cry it all out. (I should point out they live in the country)

Without too much thought, I agreed and got out of the car to walk Monica the last block home. It seemed like a straightforward natural consequence. If we can’t trust you to not open the car door, you can walk.

One problem. Monica, of course, refused to walk. She did scream and cry with her very formidable lungs.

By this point it was 10:00 on the Saturday night. It was dark. Most people were in bed, it being the night we “sprung forward.” And in our tiny, safe, caring neighborhood, my 7 year old daughter was screaming as loud as she could.

No fewer than 3 neighbors (and there could have been many more) opened their front doors to see what was going on. I certainly don’t fault them for it. Indeed, I’m happy I live in a neighborhood where folks listen for trouble. And to their credit, when they saw a little girl having a major temper tantrum as her Papi carried her the last block home they all gave quick nods and headed back inside.

Favorite Scene from El Conejito Knuffle

But I was mortified. Part of it was the fact that I didn’t have good control of the situation. Part of it was that I was angry with Monica. Part of it was anger with me and my wife for not really thinking the “walking home idea” through. But mostly it was that other people, at a time when they were probably sleeping, got to see me carrying a yelling daughter home in a parenting walk of shame.

Once we got home it took all of 2 minutes to get Monica to calm down. She fell asleep in 3. And Ren and I regrouped (as we always do) to process what lessons we learned and how we might do things differently next time.

The most obvious answer: Don’t be out after bedtime.

And, I guess, be ready. You will be embarrassed from time to time.