Living in Public

Noah and I are barely ever in our sleeping cube (house). For lots of reasons, some serious and some stupid (like being repulsed by my 8 year-old carpet.)

This means we're almost always somewhere "visible." It's a vulnerable thing to live your private life largely in public. Sometimes it's inconvenient, like when you need to change clothes without looking homeless changing in the restaurant restroom. Sometimes it's hurtful, like when people get annoyed that a child is ordering for himself and "taking too long."

The incalculable benefits, however, of being "around" befriending the most extraordinary cross section of human life, far outweighs the drags. My hope is that through this external experiment in living, our development as social beings is accelerated. The idea is that by being "out and about" there's more good to rub up against and less opportunity to hide your crap:

If Noah disobeys me at our table, grabbing 8 grapes instead of the 4 I said he could have, I send him to the corner to sit in time out. Yes, in public. Yes, I don't care. Why should it be OK to misbehave in public but not be disciplined in the same space and time?

If he fails to answer someone who asks him a question, instead of making excuses for him, I look him straight in the eye and say, "Look at ____ and answer their question. If you don't, we leave." Yes, I "threaten" him with consequences. Rudeness is ugly, and he's better off feeling that soon and very soon.

But sometimes I go too far and my beastly disciplining is what's on display. Noah can't give me a timeout, but I've felt some raised eyebrows from onlookers beholding my harshness and impatience. I inwardly groan. And lay into myself mentally for the next hour.

And yet there are also the times, like yesterday, when even my own self-flagellation is put into check publicly. It is in these times that I am overall grateful to live my life outdoors in the light among all the eyes and ideas. We were on our normal scooter loop but on an unusual mission. It was 7pm, and we were delivering a wedding present to our cafe pals Gen & Clark. Yes, it was a watercolor portrait of a stained-glass pirate cat. Noah and I weren't getting along. I was being a mean Mommy. He was being a little punk. We were both hot and thrown off from a weird long nap. While I puffed smoke out my nostrils, he scooted ahead of me 30 feet rolling his eyes.

And in this gap was standing a UPS delivery man with a waxed handlebar mustache. He stopped me and said, "You know, I have to compliment you. I've seen you and your son around the neighborhood and at Costco, and you are just so great with him." I sighed and said, "Really? Oh man, you have no idea how much I needed to hear that right now. Thank you."

I felt myself soften toward Noah, not to live up to this guy's expectations, but because I was put in touch with our relationship again. And the pettiness faded.