When my youngest child began kindergarten a few years back, I suddenly found myself in the spotlight. As a stay-at-home mom, I was the center of attention, and those I hadn’t spoken to in ages were eager to know what my plans were for the time my kids would be at school.
Many assumed I’d be pursuing a career, heading back to school, or diving into volunteer work. My response of, “I’m just going to focus on myself for a bit,” didn’t sit well with most—except for my partner, Jake. “Yes, darling! Your time to relax means more fun for us!”
No one seemed interested in my tales of wearing my son’s knee pads while scrubbing grout with a toothbrush (trust me, pee stains grout like nothing else) or how committed I was to mastering headstands. It made me question why my life choices were anyone else’s concern.
My children were all in school, leaving me with six hours of solitude each day, five days a week—unless you count holidays, school breaks, or sick days. If I chose to drop them at daycare for a few quiet hours, that was my business.
If I decide to breastfeed my 4-year-old and newborn simultaneously in public, that’s not your concern. However, if I try to breastfeed your 4-year-old, then you have a reason to be concerned. If I enjoy a glass of wine in front of my child, that’s my choice; but if you see me driving with three kids in the back while sipping a bottle of red, then it’s your business.
Should I allow my 10-year-old to walk half a mile to school with a friend, that’s not your business. But if I leave my child (or pet) in a hot car while I dash into a store, then yes, you should intervene. Letting my child have soda occasionally? Not your concern. But if I invite your kid over for a playdate and ignore your vegan preferences by serving a bacon cheeseburger, that’s where you can raise an eyebrow.
If I express myself with colorful language on social media, that’s my right. But calling your child names is another story—it’s your business then. If I take up a night gig as a performer to fund my kids’ college education, that’s not your concern. But inviting your child to see my act definitely is.
Letting my 8-year-old watch a PG-13 film? That’s my call. But if your daughter ends up binge-watching a horror series with me and has nightmares, that’s on you to address. Talking to my 4-year-old about the birds and the bees because of a song he learned at school? No one’s business but mine. But if he shares that song with your child, then it becomes a concern.
If I’m nearing 30, 40, or 50 without kids, that’s my life choice. Trying to take your child? Absolutely your business. Allowing my child to eat food off the floor? Not your concern. But if my child approaches your plate and stuffs food down his pants, then you have every right to react.
After 40 years on this earth, I’ve realized that my happiness increases when I focus on my own life and not on others. After all, I’m already juggling two kids in puberty and one who has perfected the art of making spitballs during meals. I simply can’t handle any more outside interference.
For more information on parenting and related topics, you might find our post about at-home insemination kits interesting, as well as this guide on IVF which is an authoritative source for those navigating parenthood. Additionally, check out Healthline’s resource on pregnancy for reliable information.
Summary:
Ultimately, how I choose to parent my children is a reflection of my values and choices, not anyone else’s business. While others may have opinions, it’s crucial to prioritize personal decisions and focus on what works best for my family.