Tuesday, June 24, 2008

Attack of the Killer Children


While sitting in the lobby of my son's Dentist this morning, I witnessed several different interactions with the other waiting parents and their kids. These relationships left me quite puzzled and damn near upset. Why would I be upset or concerned for that matter, about someone else's business? Because their experiences inter feared with my experience. I hate going places and they are plagued with out of control children. Stores, restaurants, and Airplanes are the worst. Just shoot me already. Each time I see a childzilla I look at mine and say, "I wish you would." He looks at me and says, "What did I do?". I say, "Nothing and you better not even think about it." What do the parents of the childzilla do in most cases? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Hello! This is not creative expression, its annoying, torture to the people around you. Wake up. But, I digress. Oh, back to the dentist appt...

First of all let me say that I realize that every place I go will not be filled with tranquility and zen like vibes, however, some places like the lobby of a dentist office should be quiet enough to give the kids the opportunity to think about their impending doom behind the big white doors. As I sat there and waited for my son to finish I picked up a magazine: 30 Minute Meals by Rachel Ray and started to plan next week's experimental meals to break up some of the monotony in my monochromatic life. When all of a sudden a couple walks in with two little boys, Daniel and Tristan. Why do I know the names of these children? Because the father proceeded to scream their names across the lobby in a loud booming voice every time Tristan got out of hand which was every 30 seconds. The kids looked to be about 4 and 3 with Tristan being the youngest. They were dressed alike in blue and red racing outfits with blond newsboy cuts. To the average onlooker they would present Angelic and peaceful. NOT! Well at least Tristan wasn't.

Tristan proceeded to slap his, what I deduced to be his step mom, in the face and kick her as she tried to put his shoes on after dad took Daniel to the little boy's room. All she said was, "Sit still honey so I can put your shoes on so you don't slip on anything." Dad and Daniel come out and step-mom goes to the car for something. Dad gets on the phone and starts yelling at baby mama, I assume, for the kid's social security numbers and that she'd better come up with it. When she said she didn't have it, he yelled at her, "Yeah the boys are fine and I told you they had dentist appts. this morning, bye!" He hangs up as step-mom re-enters the lobby. She sits beside dad and helps Daniel get a book. Tristan, obviously bored with this situation, decided to blow the Popsicle stand and leave. Now, I'm faced with a dilemma. Do I chase Tristan or not since I seem to be the only one who witnesses his escape. I decide in the affirmative, because after all if it were mine I'd want intervention, so I get up to apprehend Master Tristan in the parking lot. As I am in motion, Dad notices him in his escape and sprints for the door. He nabs Tristan in the nick of time and swats him on the bottom twice and says get inside and drags him in kicking and screaming. Relieved I didn't have to intervene, I sat back down and grabbed my magazine.

They sit Tristan at the kiddie table where he proceeds to kick the walls and bang on the table. Now the other parents, myself included, are annoyed and curious to see how this family is going to handle this situation. Dad proceeds to yell, "Daniel!!!, I mean Trissssstan, Stop it!" This guy is so confused, he can't even remember the name of the child he is yelling at. This exact exchange happens, no exaggeration, 6 more times. "Daniel!!!!!, I mean Trissssstan, Daniel!!!, I mean Trissssstan, Stop it!" You get the picture. On top of all of this, Tristan is yelling and screaming at the top of his lungs.

Realizing that the noise is not going to cease anytime soon, I try to tune Tristan out and get back to my magazine. In walks a woman who doesn't look a day older than me, with a Gothic young lady around the age of 11 or so. This mother asks her daughter if she is in pain and the girl totally ignores her. She stares straight ahead and never acknowledges her questions. The mother spends 3 mins pleading for the girl to answer her and she finally says no. The mother then gets up to take something to the window and then comes back and says, " I know you are upset but you don't have to forget your manners," and then kisses her on the head. This continued the entire time they were there. So now the scene is...Tristan screaming and yelling at the top of his lungs, kicking the wall, Dad screaming the names of both children and mom in the corner begging her child to talk to her. Calgon, take me away!! Ugh.

To add to this madness, my son comes out and says the doctor wants to see you. They proceed to tell me that he has 3 cavities and will need to be sedated. OK I say and we enter into the sedation room. They give him the knock out punch and I proceed to read yet another magazine. After about 10 minutes, he starts truly bugging and falling all over the seats, me and the floor. I tell him to get up and lay across the group of 3 chairs on the other wall. He does so and he is blissfully sleep and I'm calmly reading my magazine once again. I never realized you could make so many different dishes with pears! Finally a piece of paradise in the midst of this ever shrinking hell hole. Well, paradise was short lived as another mother and her two children entered the room. Now, I had to pick Len up and sit him next to me with him slobbering at the mouth and speaking in tongues. The mother and her two sit down and her baby son, dressed in a t shirt, a diaper and sandals, proceeds to jump around the room and through his Gerber Finger treats onto the floor and eat them. The mother does little to stop this. So now I have Len speaking in tongues and falling all over the place( he actually ended up in the floor), little half dressed baby throwing Gerber treats, Spongebob on the television and a pounding headache. I actually said, this is such a major disaster as I shook my head. To top it all off, the woman is looking at me and Len as if she's studying us and her child in now headfirst under the chairs. I don't get it. Has parenting come to this....let the child do what they want? They finally come and get Len for his mini surgery and I go back to the main lobby.

As I enter, Tristan is still terrorizing the place, Daniel is in the back and two new children have joined the group. However, these children, a little black girl and boy, were playing quietly with their parents and were the most mild mannered children I've ever seen. Hmmm. What gives? I sat with my magazine, tried to have a phone conversation which I couldn't complete because Tristan made the voice on the other end inaudible. Damn. I wanted to check my acct balance and had to go outside because the automated system was too sensitive to continue working through Tristan's yells. Once back inside, Len was ready. He came out all crusty with fluoride dried on his lips, staggering and falling against the walls, talking bout he couldn't feel his lips. My, my, my what a trip from Hell.

As horrible as this sounds, it was actually mild compared to some of the things I have witnessed over the years. The battle I had with my own child on December 20, 2006 in the Gymboree at Columbiana Mall comes flooding back to my memory. You know it had to be bad if I remember the date. We proceeded to fight in the middle of the store which ended up with me carrying him kicking and screaming out of the store and dropping him in the floor in the middle of the mall, stepping over him and leaving. Thank God my girlfriend Patrice was with me or I don't know how he would have made it home that night. She brought him home, made him dinner and put him to bed as I terminated my parental rights in the mall. He knew I was finished because he went from calling me Mama to Ms. Ursula. It was a spectacle and I'd never been so embarrassed in my life. So, I can imagine the humiliation that parents feel when their children act out in public. However, most parents choose to not do anything about it or yell and scream with no results. I guess I'm asking for there to be a better way to control these children and these on the brink of insanity parents. Any suggestions? Anyone?

2 comments:

Christloj said...

Well I guess the most typical answer would come to mind, "Beat their a*&" But that's easy for someone without a child to say. When my nephew was younger he was very active and mischievious. I would yell at my sister to control her pre-teen. Her comment was always the same. "He's only 2, or 3, or 4. This is how they act. When you have kids you will see." My response was and still is, "No, because my child will never act like that, I will bust their ass!"

Again, it's easy for a person without a child to tell a parent the best way to raise their child. I mean, how do we know why this child acts the way they do? Would we react differently if we had children. We would like to think so. At least we do/did until we get/got children. Now we are the ones who are yelling, "Tristan Stop!"

My only complaint is the parents who go places and see their child acting up, but ignore them as if they are home. NO! Just because you are immuned to the annoyance, doesn't mean everybody else is. Example, parents bring their children to fedex kinkos while they place orders or do jobs. The kids run around the store yelling and screaming, knocking things over, messing with machines, etc. The parents calmly continue with what they are doing as if this isn't happening. We on the the other hand are trying to hurry them out so we can get back to the peace of running copiers. The worse is when they allow their children to come behind the counter into the production area. We calmly say, "You can't be back here." The parents look up, ignore, and keep going. Now if a machine fell on their bad asses, they would want to sue. Ignoring that they aren't doing their job as parents. Next time a copier may crunch their little ass up. And I will ignore it.

My suggestion, look at your child, take heed to how he acts at times, and put yourself in the place of the parent. As annoying as it is, you have to grin and bear it. At least you don't have to go home with it.

Ursula Kelly said...

Amen, to not having to go home with it. I think I would have checked myself into Charter Rivers if I had to take Trissssssstttttan home with me. Ugh. God help his parents!