Driving in the city today with my windows rolled down and as I stopped at a red light, I looked at the car in front of me and what I saw gave me pause.
There was a kid, couldn't be more than two, hanging over the back of his car seat, staring at me with his tiny little cuteness. I literally sat there dumbfounded for a moment, not sure what to do. The driver was looking straight ahead, the passenger on her phone.
Should I beep my horn to let them know? Try waving my hands to get their attention?
Fortunately, the passenger glanced back and saw him. I heard her yell "Sit back down!" in that authoritative adult voice and sure enough, that boy turned around and sat his rear down quick.
Now, I am sure that may of you are appalled at this observation. "Why wasn't she paying attention?" "Why wasn't he strapped in properly?" "Someone should call the cops on her for negligence!"
Before you get your panties in a wad, take a chill pill. I could honestly relate to that woman. I was so not passing judgment on her or or parenting skills in the least. Here's why:
My little brother was wild growing up. Before he got into school and they diagnosed him with ADHD, he was just "a wild-ass kid." He was really good at unbuckling himself from the car seat when he was a baby. Not even three yet and he had that crap figured out easy. My mom had no control over it; she would strap him in and once she got down the road, he was loose and jumping around in the back seat.
She was pulled by a cop once who saw him literally bouncing around all over the place back there with my older brother and I. The man gave her a hard time and at this point, with the three of us screaming and raising hell in the back, and this cop threatening her with tickets and social services, she had had it. She broke down crying. "What am I supposed to do? You take him then if you think you can do better! Watch!"
She buckles him back up and in seconds he is free and going ape-shit all over again.
At this point, the cop has no idea what to do. He kind of shakes his head and tells her to just be careful. What was a cop in the late eighties to do, anyway? What can you do with an escape artist?
She used to have to put a harness on him at the mall because he would run off and hide. Shit, we all did. Mom would be freaking out, trying desperately to find him,- while my older brother and I were not helping by fighting, screaming, whining, or also missing- and other parents would cluck their tongues at her. How could she lose one of her kids? Of course, once she started roping his ass in public like a cow, the head shaking didn't stop. How could she treat her kid like an animal? Poor woman couldn't win for losing.
The point I'm trying to make here, folks, is that as parents, we can't help the cards we are dealt. I have a couple wild ones myself and taking them anywhere is like a circus. The kind with the petting zoo where no one ever shovels the crap up and the air smells like a mixture of peanuts and poop.
So before you try to judge other parents you see in public who might be spanking an ass, yelling while the kid is crying, or trying desperately to figure out where their little terror is hiding, just think about how stressed out that parent might be or what got them to that point.
Or remember your own childhood. We were all little shits once that liked to test our parents in one way or another. And isn't it lovely when it comes full circle?
Being a parent is hard work, don't ever let anyone tell you differently. If you are a parent you know exactly what I'm talking about. The experience is equal parts wonderful and horrifying. Creating life is easy, being responsible for it is another thing entirely. So, like every parent, I have got some stories.
I have four girls so suffice it to say, the estrogen floating around here is in quantities large enough to create an invisible fog that when breathed in, gives you crazy ideas about cooking, hairdressing and nail painting. But I have a serious potty mouth. Though my husband hates it and I'm constantly told what a horrible parent I am, mostly by my family, I could give a shit. This is me. So my children are pretty used to hearing mommy scream out random things like "This fucking internet!" or "Where is my god-damn shoe?" Yes, this is parenthood done right.
My oldest will be turning eleven in a couple weeks. Let me tell you a little story about the Kass-Kass.
A few months ago, (I guess. Time is a funny thing in my world. Hell, it could have been last year, I have no idea.) my daughter approached me about an "embarrassing" problem. She comes in my room with that nervous and excited look in her eye and I'm immediately thinking, "Oh, noooooo, she did not just start her period! I'm not ready for another being experiencing the red river in this household!"
Fortunately, it was another matter. "Mom, I have this weird lump in my nipple."
What is the first thing that would pop into your head? Boobs! Wait, weird lump? Cancer!
"OMG, let me see that thing!"
I was fully prepared for boobdom. Hell, I know she was too. In fourth grade, she had a friend who was almost my height and had boobs my size. I shit you not, this kid borrowed my bathing suit one time to play in the sprinkler and it fit her. So in fifth grade, at a different school, her new best friend is taller than me with boobs about my size. I'm not that fricking short, my kid just chooses to friend the Jolly Green Giant's relatives. Which only makes her look like a dwarf in comparison because she has been the shortest kid in her entire grade for a few years now.
But anyway, back to lump tit.
After some poking and prodding I come to the same conclusion she did: this lump is weird. So I take her to the pediatrician.
"It could be an infection."
Blood work says it is not an infection. They put her on meds anyway, two weeks later we are right back there, lump still there, if anything, bigger.
"It could be this or that."
It is not this or that.
"Well, maybe it is just her breasts growing in." I love how doctors say breasts. Like this is a word people really use outside of romance novels. I live in the real world and in the real world they are boobs. Or tits. Awkward looking, pain-in-the-ass-in-a-tank-top, too-big-and-your-back-hurts boobs.
"Just one?"
"It's rare but it happens. Let's send you to a specialist."
In other words, I have no fucking clue what is going on with your kid so I'll throw you on another doctor. Story of my life.
We go to said specialists and after looking at it for five seconds and touching it once, he comes to the conclusion that it's a breast growing. Right. I had to make a special appointment, drive all the way to another town, using gas I can't afford just for you to basically look at my kid in two minutes? Again, story of my life. Doctors never have the time for my kids.
So, on the way home, while I'm cursing out stupid doctors, I tell the Kass-meister just to keep an eye on it and let me know if it gets bigger or discolored or whatever.
Two weeks later it's gone. Just like that. Definitely weird.
Jump forward to a few days ago. Kass-Kass approaches me again. "Mom, the other nipple has a lump now." Instead of the embarrassed, I'm-growing-up look of pride that she had the last time she approached me, this time she has this frustrated, not-this-shit-again look on her face. I've taught her well.
So once again my kid has a one-lump wonder going on under her shirt that she is just going to have to deal with. Doctors are idiots and boobs don't just show up then disappear. At least, I don't think they are supposed to. Mine didn't but who knows with kids these days? Are boobs like groundhogs now where they pop up, look around and if they don't like the look of things, disappear again? Maybe.
Maybe.
