Raising Kids: It Takes a Village. Not a Call to the Police.

"Mommakong" original artwork by Chelsea Stephen Illustration

I suppose that living on a sailboat in the Caribbean with my husband and our three small children indicates I have a slightly different take on "risk" than most. That said, I consider myself a pretty good mom. Like all parents I tend to swing the pendulum... At a baseline my kids are bathed, fed, clothed, hugged, kissed, entertained, and know they are loved tremendously. On my really, really good days, I think I'm above average, maybe even a "super mom." On my really, really bad days, I try to calculate how much therapy will un-do the screwing up I have inevitably done. Most days, I live somewhere in the middle. However, the day the cops were called on me for what another parent viewed as neglect? That day I felt pretty damn crappy.

***

Let me preface this by saying I am, by my own choice and innate instincts, a pretty "laid back" mom. Some call it 'free range' others call it irresponsible. I call it 'parenting without instilling fear.' I do not operate on the assumption that everything and everyone is out to get my kids. And while I know that the world can be a scary place, I make a very conscious choice not to to put fear in the driver's seat of my life. Turns out, I parent this way as well. I'm the mom at the park sitting contentedly on a bench while my eighteen-month old twins climb an apparatus deemed "above" their age limit. I'm the mom at the library thumbing through books to read later to my girls while the three of them run amok in different play areas. I give them a wide berth to explore this world and intervene when I see something I think is too dangerous.  While I believe this makes me the polar opposite of a "helicopter" parent, I certainly don't think it classifies me as a neglectful one.

***

I was scheduled to take all three girls to the pediatrician for shots while my husband was out of town and realized we were out of ibuprofen right before leaving. Not good. Any mom of multiples will tell you that staying one step ahead of the game is key to survival: not only would ibuprofen help take the edge off the pain of the shots (each twin was getting three), but we always like to have it on hand in case of a fever spike (not uncommon when you have three kids three and under.) Without this kind of forethought, it's too easy for chaos to reign (and believe me, chaos reigns from time to time.) It was 10:50 am. Our appointment was scheduled for 11:15. We’d finish no sooner than 11:50. Lunch time at 12:00. Nap at 12:30. When - and how - would I be able to stop at a drugstore while alone with three very active toddlers?

I hopped in the car after wrangling all three girls into their seats (not an easy feat) and was on my way. I had 15 minutes to pick up my aunt who kindly offered to help me with the girls during their appointment and get to the doctor. I made the quick decision to stop on the way at my local Walgreens because waiting until after the appointment risked pushing past lunchtime with very cranky, sore and hungry kids. Not the best time for errand-running.

I pulled the car into a parking spot right in front of the pharmacy doors and quickly weighed my options, keeping in mind we had 15 minutes till 'go' time: Option 1: Wrangle all girls into the store, with no stroller or baby carriers, and try to contain them as I shuffled to the medicine aisle. My (easily) 10 minute option. Option 2: Put the car in park, crack the windows, lock the doors and run in to grab the medicine by myself. My (easily) two minute option.

I chose Option 2. THE HORROR!

I gave the girls a big smile, told them I loved them, reminded them to be good and ran into the store. I know the layout well considering our home is mere blocks away. I ran right to the aisle for the meds and grabbed a few cheese sticks from the refrigerator on my way back down (in case our appointment ran late and the girls needed something more substantial than Cheerios.) Just as I turned the corner to check out, the clerk pointed at me with wide eyes and announced, "THERE SHE IS!"

I knew immediately what was coming.

"What's going on?" I asked as I picked up my pace.

"Those are your kids in the car, right?" she questioned. "The police are on their way. That lady out there called the cops. You can't leave your kids in the car" she said, shaking her head in disbelief as I ran past her.

I dropped my basket and ran outside. My heart was racing. I quickly came face to face with a squat middle aged woman who had an attitude to share and a cross to bear.

"Are those your kids? You can't leave your kids in the car!" she said as she lumbered toward me, he husband meekly lurking behind her. "I called the police" she shrugged with a smirk.

"Are you SERIOUS?" I said, struggling for words, trying to assess whether or not she was bluffing while I fumbled for my keys, "I'm alone with three small kids, we have a doctor's appointment in ten minutes...I was getting them MEDICINE. I was in there for less than TWO MINUTES..." I stammered off and hoofed it over to my car.

"Well, I had *four* kids and I *never* left them alone in the car," she yelled after me matter of factly with an air of superiority, really punctuating 'four' and 'never'. I shook my head in disgust and hopped in the driver's seat. I turned around and looked at my three happy girls entertaining themselves - luckily with no idea what was going on.

I started the car. If she truly had called the cops, they were going to have to have to come and find me. I wasn't going to wait around when it would mean missing the coveted (and very difficult to acquire) twin vaccination appointment with our favorite pediatrician. I put the car in gear and drove off with my heart racing.

***

I know that leaving kids in cars is a big hot topic these days. We’ve all read the worst of the stories whether accidental or due to misguided parenting.

But this was not that scenario. Or maybe I've spent too much time in the Caribbean where parents are more relaxed and where I have carted my kids around in the back of pick-up trucks and other such atrocities.

I had assessed the situation and calculated my risk before I'd made my move: The car was off with no keys. The girls were secure in their car seats. It was a comfortable 70 degrees outside. The windows were cracked. The doors were locked. No small toys or snacks in arm’s reach. Happy attitudes. No tears. What could go wrong?

Sure, an axe wielding madman could bash open a window and maybe wrestle one child out of her seat before I returned. And, yes, I suppose it is possible a meteor could come falling out of the sky and land on our vehicle. I've read of sinkholes before, so there is always a chance that one could swallow our car in the few minutes I'd be gone. And I guess there is the remotest possibility that I could suffer a heart attack or aneurysm while in the store, leaving my children alone in the car until someone noticed. Spontaneous fire? Alien abuduction? Attack by a stowaway squirrel? The list of goes on... I weighed the risk and felt pretty confident none of those things were going to occur in the time I would be in the store. Call me crazy.

What I did not factor in was a busybody looking for her moment to shine at my expense, which is far more insidious - and common - than any of the other scenarios I considered.

***

To say this experience shook me is like saying I like a glass of wine every now and then… I was rattled and kept playing it over and over in my head. I went through with the appointment, managed to get the girls fed and in bed for their naps, and then, driven by the incredibly unnerving feeling that maybe cops were going to show up at my door, I hit the internet. I wanted to know a) if what I did was, in fact, illegal and b) if I needed to be ready for police and/or the Department of Child and Family Services to show up at my door with a warrants. A quick Google search taught me that laws vary state to state, however here in Illinois, it is perfectly legal to leave a child in a car for less than ten minutes. Phew.

Knowing I hadn't broken the law certainly eased my nerves, but did nothing to quell the terrible feeling of being humiliated and 'mommy shamed' by the clerk and woman outside. I called the store to complain, after which they apologized and told me that the police had not, in fact, shown up. The woman was either lying to me to prove a point or the cops didn't see reason to follow up. Either way, the whole situation made me think.

***

As a child of the '80's I don't ever remember being in a car seat. My siblings and I spent plenty of time waiting in the car while our mom ran a quick errand. We would regularly walk to the neighborhood park, without an adult, and play for hours. On weekends, we were set loose in the neighborhood in the morning and expected to be home at dinnertime. I was regularly sent door to door to track down my little sister who, at the age of 4 or 5, was prone to wandering off in search of a neighbor to give her a cookie. If we fell off our bike a neighbor or sibling would carry us home. If we ran late our parents would start calling around to track us down. That was parents trusting their children, their own instincts, and each other.

Yes, it takes a village to raise children, however MY village is one where we look out for one another and our children – NOT one where we try to find the best way to point fingers and play sheriff. If what that woman had really cared about was my kids, she could have waited by my car for a minute to give me a chance and then assess the situation. She could have had her husband run into the store and have the clerk call me on the loud speaker. Witnessing my kids in no distress and no immediate danger did not warrant a call to the police. Had she waited that single minute more, she would have found a slightly frazzled, very rushed, and very alone mother of three who left her kids in the car for less than five minutes to grab some medicine.

Don't get me wrong, I believe in safety and being vigilant about what’s happening around us… Car seats, bike helmets, and laws protecting the most vulnerable are all important. But, so is supporting each other. So, instead of pointing fingers, judging and - for heaven's sake - calling the cops... Perhaps we take a moment to offer a hand.

If we do this, the world we be a much less scary place. I promise.