I guess it’s been a little while since I’ve “blogged”. Look, I’ve been busy alright. Busy....procrastinating. No seriously though, my husband has been gone for about 6 weeks now with his military duties and I’ve been alone with my 19-month-old boy (who feels about as heavy as a tank right now). I will be 35 weeks pregnant this week with our second son. There are about a million things I should be doing to prepare for baby #2, but usually by the end of the day the amount of energy I have left is zero. So, I’m finally sitting down while boy #1 is repeatedly hitting the same button on his pretend laptop in his room and I'm committing to writing another post.
So much has happened in the last couple months where I think to myself, “Self, you should remember that. Then write about it.” But as anyone who has had preggo-brain or a toddler can tell you, you forget stuff. Quite easily in fact, and often. But as long as its not your kid being left in the shopping cart after a grocery run, you’re fine.
Actually, some people might not really like this post. This post may come off as a rant. I really do not mean to be a negative person, but lately, people have been making me really angry. DANI ANGRY....DANI SMASH!!! And it’s not that I feel above these people in any way, but I just don’t understand why some people are so rude/mean/self-serving. Let me explain.
The first occurrence in the chain of events we will call “The ME Apocalypse” happened
on the weekend of the 4th of July. Now, I love Independence Day. Who doesn’t like freedom? Good ole’ ‘Merican food, celebrations, and tradition. But sometimes people born with an illness called “Stupidity” get a hold of things called fireworks and shoot them off in very foolish and dangerous ways. Sure, maybe I was a bit irritated because boy #1 wouldn’t go to bed and kept hearing them and pointing to the window, seconds after his eyes were closing (in a sure sign that he was about to be asleep). What I couldn’t let go of though, was that where we live (on-base) fireworks aren’t allowed. I know the cops look the other way, and I don’t even mind that so much either. But the thing is, when its nearing midnight, and bits of fireworks are hitting my roof and scaring the you-know-what out of me, the party’s over. This same neighbor was also apparently intoxicated, and lit one, lost control of it and I watched as it shot off near a crowd of people on his front lawn. There were kids there. And that’s when the mama bear in me comes out. Basically, this guy and his wife didn’t give a rip about anyone else on the street, the fact that not everyone is in that phase of life where you can party like a rockstar and have parties as loud as you want. Some of us who live here have kids. Are pregnant. Some have to work weird hours and need sleep at some point. But that doesn’t matter to some people. As long as they are happy.
So, a couple weeks later, I’m getting ready for bed and notice a random car in my driveway. Huh? That’s not my car. Did someone get drunk and park in the wrong driveway? I guess to some its not a big deal, but this is our driveway and if I go into labor in the middle of the night or my kid needs a trip to the ER, your hooptie better not be blocking me in. I went outside to try and figure out whose car it is, and my next door neighbor and his buddy are working on a car in his garage. I ask if this car is his and and he’s like “Oh, yeah, I’m sorry.” I nicely told him it wasn’t a big deal, but the car needs to be moved before the morning because we had to be somewhere. He moved it before that, but still, what makes people feel the right to such entitlement? I get that you didn’t think we were home, but why not check? Maybe even ASK if you could do it for a while. Again, someone who is not thinking of anyone but himself.
I’m sure this is starting to sound like a whole bunch of whining, but I really am trying to make a point. These next couple examples make me REALLY, REALLY mad.
In an attempt to tire my lil boy out, I have been taking him to a community center on base that basically has a little indoor playground. It is awesome. It is free. And it is open almost everyday. Thank you Jesus for the Playzone. The Playzone has rules though, and they make it very clear there that you do not dump off your rugrats and zone out. You need to supervise them and (GASP!) interact with them. We were there a couple weeks ago, and lil man is doing his pretend thing...you know, putting plastic cash registers in the pretend microwave. A couple comes in with their 2-year-old boy and I was a little excited. Maybe the lil guys will play together. I smile, say hi, make the usual “How old is yours” small-talk. I should have known something was up when I notice both mom and dad are wearing blue-tooth ear-pieces. They proceed to get on the phone, (2 different conversations) and bust out laptop computers. ARE YOU KIDDING ME? The lil boy obviously knew they wanted to zone him out for a while and just played alone in a little climbing structure. I felt so bad for him. I understand that every parent needs some “away-time” from their mini-me’s (including me....right NOW), but what a huge message they were sending him. Five minutes later, a couple moms come in with their older kids and proceed to play some word game on their iphones while their mongrels kick my kid out of the plastic playhouse and even slam the door in his face. Just as I’m about to go over and intervene, one of them puts her phone down long enough to say “So-and-so, are you being mean?” Um, yeah lady. Because they know you don’t give crap what they are doing right now.
I know that I am still a new parent. I do not have all the answers or think that I do in any way. But I do know that kids, even very young ones are watching their mommies and daddies. They are picking up signals from them. They are learning that it’s ok to be selfish, rude, and lacking in basic manners. They are learning that blowing off the rules is fine (as long as you don’t get caught). Sadly, some of them are even learning that they aren’t as important as a phone call, email, or game.
I know I have messed up and will mess up again and again when it comes to raising my kids. It’s what parents do. But I really hope that my boys understand that the world does not revolve around them. That other people matter and so do their needs. I hope they learn to put others first, even when it’s very inconvenient. I hope we don’t just explain this to them, but that they see it in the way we act. This era of entitlement is sad and only getting worse. Hopefully, more people will get sick of it too.
