Boundaries

We've been inundated with family visitors. First one set of in-laws (just two), then a whole pack of seven came and stayed at what normally seems like a spacious three bedroom apartment. It was interesting to see how vastly different my parenting style is from my sister-in-law's and how some of it stems from how we were raised--me in a strict household, her in with a very lax, but loving mother. I think another big part of our different styles come from our different lifestyles. Last year we traveled to 11 countries with our two kids, ate at least 1/3 of our meals at restaurants, and were on countless flights where they were expected to be very quiet and stay buckled in their seats for hours on end.

We've moved around considerably and we've never lived where I could let the kids play outside without my immediate presence--due to either lack of a fenced yard, or not having a yard at all. Similarly, I'm the oddity as a stay-at-home-mom in the communities we've found ourselves in, and I guess I take myself pretty seriously. I don't mean to say that I'm inflexible, but I'm not a short-order cook, and don't make meals to satisfy the different pallets of each member of our family. Likewise, I try not to tolerate whining, or make excuses for my kids when they don't act as well as I'd like them too. I find myself rarely using our stroller, because I think my youngest, at three, should be able to walk pretty much anywhere we can, and the five year old is way to old to be using it. So it was with great difficulty that I held my tongue and watched the oldest of my visiting nieces and nephews at 12 years old being pushed around in a stroller because she didn't feel well, thereby kicking out her 1 year old brother from his rightful place.


This was just the beginning, but I'll save my whining or my husband and get to the really big moment of their visit. All of us were at a historic mansion with incredible gardens and a swimming pool. There were strict instructions not to walk on the grass, not to touch the furniture, all the usual warnings to preserve the historic environment, but when the kids got to the pool they couldn't resist. First one cousin, then another peeled off their socks and shoes and put their feet in the pool and proceeded to splash each other. I had to be the grouchy mom, and wouldn't let my kids participate. I didn't mind if they put their hands in the water, but somehow hands=clean play to me and feet=dirty play. While the kids were doing this a man and woman with larger than average cameras were at the opposite end of the pool and began taking pictures of the kids. At first I didn't mind. It went on for a few minutes. I made eye contact with them to make sure they knew I was watching them and they didn't stop. This went on for about 10-15 minutes. Then the kids got interested in a cat that came by and the photographers came to our side of the pool and continued to take pictures. Feeling uncomfortable I walked across the forbidden grass to them and said, "Hi, concerned parent here. Just wondering why you're taking pictures of my kids."

Their response?

"You're not supposed to be on the grass."

Well this set me off. The female photographer began complaining that I was making her feel weird. I was saying that if the situation was reversed then surely they would approach a stranger taking pictures of their children. The male photographer was trying to calm us both down. He did say he should have said something to me sooner about taking the kids pictures, and gladly gave me his business card, but she was very hostile to the end. We ended up arguing for a good 7 or 8 minutes and I still don't think the woman ever understood why I was so upset.

So, you were in my situation, what would you have done? Ignored the photographers? Simply left the area sooner? Taken them on?

Last gripe--I promise. Naturally with all the touring we did the kids and cousins had to pee at every occasion. Cleo is currently 5 years old, but is very tiny and looks like she's 4 at the most. When we go to the restroom, I take Cleo, Gigi and myself and we all go in one stall, no matter where we are, even church. At this stage I would never send Cleo to the bathroom by herself in a public place, or even let her go in a stall by herself. My sister-in-law does let her 5 year old go by herself. Granted, usually she has a bigger sister to go with her, but sometimes that sister is only 7, and they go in separate stalls, in public restrooms--outdoor public restrooms. This really scared me. So readers, tell me, am I a hyper-protective parent, which is what my husband thinks I am, am I a product of my environment or what?