When You Judge My Kid, I Might Just Ask for $25,000 and Annoy the Piss Out of You
You know that moment when someone gives the look?
The judgmental one.
The look that sizes up your kid—maybe because they’re stimming, not making eye contact, having a hard moment, or just… existing differently. A little louder, a little less “well-behaved,” a little more alive than what they think a child “should” be.
I see that look. And sometimes? I decide to have a little fun with it.
One of my favorite moves? I start quoting something serious—like the Bible. I’ll say, “You know, there’s this idea about inviting the people others exclude…” Then I pause dramatically, reach into my purse, and pull out a weathered envelope. I look them dead in the eye and say, “All I need now is $25,000 to start my own church.”
Other times, I sit beside them, smile sweetly, and say, “You don’t remember me? We met once, when you were still decent.”
Switching the discomfort from me to them?
It’s an art form.
Calling Out Judgment Isn’t Always Sass
Sometimes, I walk up and say:
“I overheard your comments. It’s easy to judge people. I judge too—I won’t pretend I don’t. You’ve been judging me and my child based on something you likely don’t understand.
In our case, it’s called autism. And guess what?
Today was a good day. My kid got up, got dressed, and engaged with the world.
There’s nothing you can do to take that from us.
I hope you have a good day—I will. Because today, you reminded me of the power of love. The power of a mother who refuses to give up on her child. Thank you for that gift.”
Other times, I ignore it.
Not every moment is worth my energy.
But when it is? I pour my energy into it.
Because for every person trying to shame us into smallness, there’s someone else—maybe tired, maybe covered in peanut butter and spit-up—who is out here trying to love better.
And sometimes, they just need someone to speak first.
Speaking Up for Parents in Hard Moments
To the mom on the plane with the crying baby, I write a note:
“I see how hard you’re working. Babies cry. You’re not alone.”
To the parent managing a meltdown at Walmart, I say:
“You’re doing a great job. I know it’s hard—especially here with all the lights and people.”
To the mom wrestling a flailing kid into a car seat:
“That was me twenty years ago. Now my daughter’s in college. You’ll get there.”
To the two men at breakfast, talking about raising daughters:
“My son overheard you and said it gave him hope.”
And their response?
“We are honored.”
Fighting Back Against Judgmental Strangers
Last week, a friend texted me:
“I took my big kids to breakfast, and these old white dudes loudly commented on how terribly I discipline. Said their kids would NEVER have acted that way.”
You can feel the venom in that, right?
The arrogance. The judgment disguised as nostalgia.
I told her:
“You should’ve asked them for $25,000 and said you’re founding a church of radical maternal inclusion. Or just said, ‘You don’t remember me? We met before you got bitter.'”
But really?
She didn’t owe them anything—not an explanation, not a performance, not even eye contact.
Some days, we fight back with sass. Some days, we walk away with our heads high.
And some days—some sacred days—we meet another mother in a checkout line, on a bench, or at Wegman’s.
We see her eyes well up.
We tell her she’s doing a good job.
And she says:
“I wanted to die last night. My baby cried for hours. I didn’t think I could do it. But now…I think I can. You reminded me why.”
The light in me recognized the light in her.
And if my life had ended at that moment, I would have been at peace—because I had been seen, and I had seen her.
Why We Keep Speaking Up
This is why we say no:
- No to minimizing comments
- No to sidelong glances
- No to self-righteous strangers mistaking exhaustion for failure
And this is why we say yes:
- Yes to the light we see in each other
- Yes to resilience
- Yes to the awkward, brilliant, hilarious, difficult, beautiful children we are raising
Because sometimes, that flicker in someone else’s eyes carries us through the night.
Not every day is about educating the masses.
But some days?
Some days are about saying:
“I see you. I’ve been there. And I’m not letting you drown alone.”
