Wednesday, July 7, 2010

I don't like kids.

No, seriously. I don't like kids.

Okay, let me explain. I don't like most kids.

I love my own kids, of course. I like a few select other kids - T-Dawg, for instance. Mooch, too. They're well-behaved boys who treat me with respect. They're good friends to my children and for that, they get kudos. But over all, I'm not one of those people who loves the sound of children laughing or whose uterus explodes at the feel of a newborn in my arms. Do I love babies? Sure - quiet, freshly-diapered, recently-fed, peacefully sleeping ones.

I've tried for years to figure out what it is about kids that I dislike so much and I think it comes down to two things: noise and mess. There are, of course, certain levels of both that come with any kid. I realize that and have learned to tune out the normal "everyday" clatter and clutter of children. But excessively noisy, shrieking, yelling, stomping, running, screamy kids make me want to bake them in a pie. I don't have patience for it.

I also can't stand a mouthy child. The desire to pop a back-talking child in the mouth has overwhelmed me more than once and I've literally had to leave my cart in the middle of an aisle at the store and walk away for fear of beating the hell out of their parents for putting up with it. There's NO place for disrespect in my world. None. If your child back-talks you, then they're not showing you respect. It's not funny. It's not a phase. It's not okay. At all.

I have no problem with a disagreement as long as it's approached respectfully. My kids are more than entitled to their opinions, as am I. I don't frequently give in, because as a parent my job isn't to be my child's friend - it's to be their parent, but there are times when one of the kids has made valid points and I'll back down. I choose my battles with my children; I have to as a parent.

What I don't have to do, though, is accept that "kids are kids" and they get to act like heathens as a result. I've managed to raise two very polite, even-tempered (still not sure how that happened), generous and loving children. If I can do it, anybody can. So stop letting your kids tell you what to do. Be a fucking parent or I promise you, I will be.

(Disclaimer: I can tolerate most kids for small periods of time. I will not tell you how to raise your kids in your house, nor will I punish them if they're in mine. And I'll only bake them in a pie if they look especially ripe.)

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