Kids

You know, here's the thing. I spend all week raising other people's children more than I get to raise my own. And while I love my job (I have mentioned that it's great except for the lousy pay and long hours?), I'd love to be spending a hell of a lot more time with my son. So I find it really, REALLY annoying when, in the small amount of time I'm off duty raising other people's children, I run into what I call "the parent who needs to get their heads out of their asses". Look, people, it is not my responsibility to watch your children on the playground while you chat on your phone 20 feet away, letting your six year old be responsible for the safety and welfare of your not quite two year old who's climbing on a metal ledge five feet off the ground where there are openings. Nor am I going to idly sit by and let your older/bigger/ruder kid be mean to my kid by being a child who obviously isn't being taught manners/sharing/or public awareness. There are plenty of responsible parents out there who actually love being parents and take their serious jobs with big doses of humor and kindness. It just seems that I never run into them when I'm out with my family. I always run into the people who humiliate their children in public, or ignore them, or so don't understand children at all that you wanna slap them up side their heads and tell them "they're children, they're SUPPOSED to act childish - hence the word you moron!"

Sorry, folks, but sometimes it's so ridiculous. And it's the one or two negligent parents that ruin it for the rest of us. It's their kids breaking the Thomas the Train set at the bookstore that gets the whole she-bang taken out of there. It's me who gets the dirty look when I politely but firmly suggest to their child that perhaps they could move from the only opening at the top of the slide, where they've been for the past five minutes screaming and crying, so that they can find their Mommy and let the other thirty two children wanting to use the equipment share. And, of course, it's my guilty conscience that makes me ignore my own son for some of the few minutes we have to share while I keep my eye on the two rather young children left unattended in the busy mall food court while their loutish (see note about humiliating) father strolls in front of the myriad fast food options and chooses the line longest and farthest from his children.

I teach some absolutely wonderful children. I also teach some children who used to be absolutely wonderful. I also teach some children who are a little bit more wonderful than they used to be but often present a challenge. Each child is different and each must be encouraged in their own way. The children I teach who used to be wonderful are those whose parents are filled with great love and little skills. Their behavior steadily declines in school and at home and the parents will shrug it off with "They're boys" or "It's the age" or a thousand and twelve excuses. Meanwhile, 18 other boys of that age aren't that out of control. Those, of course, are the borderline parents you have to keep a close watch out. But I digress yet again. I'm really p.o.'d tonight because of the parents who do love their children, who DID want them (and we've all had those fantasies of life without, haven't we?), who are so wrapped up in their wants and their needs and their stresses and their whatever rights are guaranteed by the constitution that they either have no clue what children need as opposed to what their children want.

Look, we all have off days. Except me, of course. Everybody in the world knows what a perfect parent I am. (sarcasm for those of you who don't recognize it) But I honestly think that if I end up in public on my own time with my own kid and I run into some other parent (lately, it's actually been stay at home moms, which surprises me since I'm loyal to my former group) who expects me to keep an eye on their children or -more likely - to just ignore them like they do, it is possible I might have the eensiest, weensiest bit of a problem keeping my mouth shut.

Another fact I'm sure surprises all involved. As the song goes: Lord, help me help my stupid self.