When you are in love with someone, you sacrafice things for them. For two little guys in my life I have sacraficed my waistline, a wrinkle free face and firm breasts. I have given these things willingly and I dont resent them these things at all. I don’t. Not a jot.
Ahhhhh. Arn’t I a nice mother?
No. I’m NOT. Because I do resent them something massively. I resent them for meaning I have to go to parks. I reeaaaallllly resent this. I harbour deep and bitter resentment for this.
Parks are invarably bad places. Naughty teenagers go there at night. *wags finger* I have seen the cigarette butts. Naughty grown-ups ignore the signs and let their dogs poo in them. *wags finger* I have seen the poo. Kids get hit in the face by SWINGS.
See! I told you parks were BAD places. Wounded by a swing. Smacked him in the face when he was having a Forest Gump moment of “whats gowin owwwn?” as he was distracted by a tractor trundling past.
Some people spice up their sex lives. I spice up my park life by going to different playgrounds. Keeps it fresh and new and is a lame attempt at finding excitement in the unknown. On the tour of parks we have gone to, there is this one park I have noticed is more than just a stone in my shoe I have to limp along with. It is verging on a battlefield. The mums there are, well, they are mean. They are mums that frown and tut at other peoples kids for running about and playing (in a park) and they are judgemental mums who actually tell off other peoples kids for being loud (in a PARK). Don’t get me wrong, on occasion other peoples kids (read “my”) can be behaving like little ratbags in need of being told. But there are ways an means of going about this, right? If little Timmy is being a little bumwipe and not letting my child pass him on the wooden fort I would either
1) Nicely ask, in a game-y fun kinda of if “Oh! Can you let Ed get past please so he can rescue the Princess (his little brother)?” whilst thinking inside “you little shit”.
2) Just move Ed on to something else. Like a chav in a mini skirt at 2am on a Saturday night out to her white vest wearing chavvy boyfriend “It aiiint wuuurf it!”.
Kids are kids. They are best mates one minute then whacking each other round the head with sticks the next. If brat child was being completely obnoxious and (here in lie the key) physically unkind to my kid then it would be different. I would hope the mum would see what was going on, and (as I would if it were me) intervene and discipline and make people apologise yadda yadda yadda. If they didn’t, I would say something (fuelled entirely by shock and adrenaline at the scene which would then make me burst in to tears in the car). But I don’t shout at other peoples kids. It doesn’t sit right.
I know some of you reading this will be thinking “WTF? Just TELL them off! They OBVIOUSLY NEED IT!”. Well, I disagree. One, it isn’t my place to discipline someone elses child. Quite frankly, it isn’t my problem so I don’t make it my issue. And two, You never know what is going on in someone’s life at that moment in time. You don’t know what the reason is as to why they are having a rest on the park bench for five minutes whilst little Timmy hisses and growls at other park go-ers. Maybe they have had a really crappy day, maybe someone is getting divorced, maybe their kids have driven them to the point of despair that morning and made them cry doing their shop around Tescos (been there). If someone says something to that mum, and tells off her kids, you have no idea what impact that could have on her. Sometimes people just had off days. I know I do.
Arn’t I wise and mellow?
No. No Im NOT. Because there is an exception to the rule. One time a mother physically reprimanded my child. She grabbed his arm and yanked him so hard he physically spun around and stumbled over. Why? Because, at 18 months old, he knocked some water over her child. Accidently. In the garden. At messy play. Lets just say that did not end well for that woman.