What I Actually Wanted to say in that ParentMap Article

It's not often that all of the schedules line up in this household and we are able to do something together as a family. Sure, we go to each other's things together--S will tag along to P's swim class or we may all catch a movie if we've got a few hours to spare and we've been waiting for the Incredibles sequel to come out for like 20 years or something. But otherwise, it takes a lot of planning to make a big excursion happen. Going to Disneyland during winter break was an experience unlike any other and really cemented together our identity as a family. This weekend, just a few days after an article I wrote for a parenting magazine about teaching your children not to stare was published, we went to the big zoo up in Seattle. A huge surprise to me-- apparently no one in that park read my little article.

Truthfully, there's a lot I wish I could have said in that article. I went for the more polite version of things because people waiting in their children's doctor's offices with their snot-filled children probably don't want to be attacked by my years of rage. People on this blog, however? Well, you're practically begging for it, right? 

To be fair (and honestly to toot my own horn just a little), my original article was good. It provided some great insights that I think a lot of people could take into their own lives. I get why it doesn't make much of a difference, though. When you're not literally in a zoo surrounded by exhibits, yet feel like you're the one who's on display, it's easy to not think too much about the impact of where your children rest their gaze. To me, however, 90% of my outings include waving my hands in front of children's faces to break their gaze or reminding them with a scary "I'm an adult" kind of bravado that "it's very rude to stare." And there's a dance to this. Catching it before either S or P realize it's happening. Scolding without S & P realizing what I'm doing. Doing it all to maintain the purity of the day.

This weekend at the zoo was tiring and frustrating, and if I'm being honest, I wanted to pluck the eyes of multiple children. I had to give myself a dip n' dots break. I lost my patience for children well into their teen years who refused to break their stares despite my scolding. I waited for parents to tell me not to talk to their children, but they were literally. never. around. I started to think that perhaps the punishment for 1. not teaching you children manners and 2. leaving them unattended, was to just steal these children and throw them in with the gorillas Harambe style #neverforget. But Harambe wouldn't deserve that. Harambe would be out here protecting dumb kids and getting shot for it like the true American hero he was. Fuck. I've never felt so connected to the plight of a gorilla before now.

Anyway.

Read the article. Take from it what you may. But as a cherry on top, please know that when you don't teach your children basic manners or are at least be there to scold them yourselves, you ruin the days of two beautiful angels who just want to see the damn sloths and ducks. And you ruin my day, you heartless monster.

Thank you for engaging in this rage post. We will be returning to regularly-broadcasted Hallmark movie posts next week. 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Why to Hire Moms and Women with Gaps in their Resumes

Image
Perhaps this is irrelevant content. Perhaps no one in the right position will ever read this, because really, who reads this at all except for Cindy, who I worked with two years ago (hi Cindy!). I want to talk about the importance of recognizing the work that moms do, not just because I'm sort of a mom and this work as a sort of mom has been the hardest of my life. I want to talk about this because moms and women in general can often find themselves relegated to the home, sometimes by choice and sometimes as a result of the society we live in and a culture of male dominance. And the home is an arena of comfort, not often recognized as a battleground of management, leadership, and steadiness. I worked for some time as an advocate at a domestic violence (DV) organization. So often, women find themselves freshly out of an abusive relationship that not only isolated them from their family, their friends, and their ability to make money for themselves, but also left them with an e...
Read more

A Letter to My Sort of Kids on Our Familyversary

Image
To P and S (or Hash Brown 1 and Hash Brown 2, as you like to be called)-- I know this is not the life we thought we'd have, but what a wonderful life it is. July came and went, as did the anniversary of us becoming a family, in all its weird and messy and laughter-filled glory. In some ways it feels like the year has flown by. In both the best and worst of times, days quickly became nights which quickly became days. And still we stand together. In this tumultuous year you both have grown in ways that I could never have imagined. Your sister and I are so, so proud of who you are, and constantly think about how lucky we are that this is our life. I don't say this much because I don't want you to feel uncomfortable, but I want to let you know that I love you more than I knew I could love. I look at both of you and all I feel is warmth. I cherish even the small moments, like when I get to drive you to work or a dance, and we just talk about your day or your favorit...
Read more

Out of the Darkness-ish

Image
"This is our transition period." Over and over, we'd remind ourselves, "this is our transition period." This was our time for learning and adjusting and making mistakes and exhaustion crying in the car because we'd realize it was our only 20 minutes alone all week. This was our time to learn what it means to give grace. To ourselves and to our caseworkers and to our sibs, who, contrary to our occasional thoughts, were not taking two hours to get ready in the morning just to fuck with us. There was a sense of loss in our hearts. When we could finally catch our breath after a day of doctors appointments and job coaching appointments and preparing meals and preparing two people to be more independent, not to mention our own schoolwork, we mourned our youth. We mourned this loss of choice. We grieved this hypothetical life of adventurous twenty-somethings who took spontaneous road trips to the shore. And we were crushed by the guilt of it all. Of not feeding the...
Read more