Faruk Ucrut: March 2011

Let’s get this out of the way up front – it’s a well-known fact I hate children. Well, at least other people’s children. And I have little tolerance/patience/whatever you want to call it, for people who do not even attempt to control their children.

Even before I had Munchkin, I knew enough about kids (from all those years babysitting, I guess) that there is a very distinct difference between attempting to control your children and failing miserably (which we all do at some point), and not even trying at all.

If there’s one thing you learn very quickly in Disney World, is that some people stop trying to control their children as soon as they walk through the gates. Apparently Disney is nothing but a giant playground and policing of children is no longer necessary (after all, that’s why they pay those people to say “keep your arms, hands, feet, and legs inside the tram at all times and no flash photography” over and over again, right). There are other people, like us, who tried to control our child, but you have to admit, there are times the amazement and wonder that is the Happiest Place on Earth will get the best of any well-behaved child and turn them into a monkey. And that’s okay, we get points for trying, right?

Anyway, it’s hard not to judge others when their kids are being complete assholes. (Side note, parent fact – the way our child acts is a direct reflection on us and our parenting. If our child is a big fat fail, so are we. At least that’s how I see it. Yes, she has her own mind – and it’s stubborn as hell – but it’s my responsibility to teach her how to use it, and if I don’t, then I didn’t do my job.)

Now, when I complain about controlling kids, I’m not talking about the couple-minute temper tantrum. No one likes to listen to a screaming child, but it’s Disney – adults go into overload, there’s no way a two-year-old won’t. It’s a place designed for kids, you have to expect that (and if you didn’t, you’re an idiot). However, it’s hard not to get pissed when kids dart out in front of you without looking, they stop to gawk at something and you almost slam into them, or strollers just appear out of nowhere or run over your heels (all of these are crimes committed by adults as well).

Here’s the thing – as a parent, you get pissed when you get the nasty stare. Sometimes the nasty stare comes with words. It’s really these moments that piss you off more than others. I mean, a stranger can walk by me and think my kid’s a punk (cause, hey, sometimes she is) and think I suck, but it’s in passing and you’ll forget about me as soon as you see something else interesting. No, it’s the ones who actually go out of their way that get you, because if your mental marquee and bitch-slap reflex are going in high gear, you know theirs is too.

The stare-down
We were at Downtown Disney, just stuffed ourselves senseless at T-Rex Café, and headed back out in the pouring rain. Despite the crappy weather and missing out on Harry Potter at Universal because of said crappy weather, I was still in a pretty good mood. Not ten feet outside the entrance to T-Rex Café, a kid darts out in front of the stroller I’m pushing. My first reaction was simply, “Whoa,” which was the first noise that came out of my mouth, and it was simply done in an effort to let said kid know I was there because I didn’t want to run him over.

I turned around to make sure I didn’t clip him, and his momma was crouching down next to her stroller, and screams “KIDS!” – like that was going to corral them. But worst of all, she gave me this stare, like “How dare you say something to my kid?” Uh, I’m sorry, bitch, next time I’ll run him over and leave him with stroller tracks on his back, okay?

After the brief moment of eye contact, I turned back forward, seething. I turned back around, and we had the stare-down again. She hadn’t moved in that time, she was watching me, I guess waiting for me to U-turn and run her kid over? I’m really not sure. We made eye contact again, and it was mom vs. mom. Honestly, it took everything I had not to go over and bitch-slap her right then and there. Do NOT treat me like that when I was not judging your parenting, I was not complaining about your kid, I was simply looking out for his well-being. In fact, at this point in time, I had no issue with your child, but rather your bitchy self.

The parenting lesson
If you are friends on Facebook, you’ve seen the short version of this story.

We’re in the Atlanta airport for about a two-hour layover between flights on our way home. Jocelyn’s been pretty good, but she’s on overload – between five days at Disney and being in an airport, which is fascinating in and of itself to her – getting her to pay attention to much of anything is a neigh on impossible. Add to that the fun of being in an airport, so not only do you have to keep an eye and hand on the child at all times, but also the luggage. And dear God did we have our fair share of luggage.

Scott and I realized it was easiest to do it in stages. We found a seat, he sat with the luggage while I took the kid to go potty. We came back, and he left to go to the bathroom and get us food (dear God, I hope in that order, and I hope he washed his hands before getting food!). Once he came back, it would be about time to take her to the bathroom again, and he’d have to baby-sit the luggage. You see how this worked.

While he was off getting lunch, which took forever and a day, Munchkin was running around the terminal gate like a mad woman. Somehow or another, between our stuff, her running laps in front of the window and my placement, we managed to take up an entire row of like six seats. I told her it was time to calm down. Hahahaha! So, I informed her she had to pick a seat and stay there or she was getting a time out. I could not, nor would I, chase her all over the gate. It wasn’t fair to me, and it wasn’t fair to the other people who just wanted to read their Kindles (yeah, everyone I saw had a Kindle – no Nooks). I asked if she understood, she said yes. Hallelujah.

She picked a seat. She gave me that little look. I knew what was coming.

She scooted down to the next one. “I want this seat.”

The tired, exhausted mom in me said, “Fine. Whatever, just sit your ass down.”

The mom in me who knew better, the mom in me whose bluff has been called way more times than I care to admit, stepped up. “No, I told you to pick a seat, you moved, you’re in time out.”

Into my lap the child goes, and here comes the screaming and flailing of arms. And here come the stares from the people at the gate. The people with kids give me that empathetic look of, “been there, done that, I hate having to discipline in public.” The people without kids give me the look of “shut the kid up, would you?” (What these people don’t realize is that, give a kid like this about 30 seconds, and not only will they most likely be quiet, but much better behaved.)

In this particular instance, we had option number three. It was the bleach-blonde college chick, with the sunglasses way too big for her face (a la Paris Hilton), who Scott proclaimed to be hung over later, came up to me and actually said, “If you let her go she won’t make noises like that, she wants to run around.”

Really? That’s why my kid is pissed off? I had no freakin’ idea. I am so glad I had her there to tell me that. Shoot, Jocelyn might still be screaming her little head off it not for her.

There were so many things that ran through my head at that moment. (Bitch-slap reflex was high, but since Jocelyn has an issue with a girl at school, the last thing I needed to do was enforce the fact hitting is okay when dealing with stupidity.) Finally, I settled for the very PC, “I know that, but she can’t.”

Who the hell did this woman think she was? In the time it took her to spit out that idiotic sentence, Jocelyn stopped screaming. She was still wriggling, but at that point, that’s my problem and not hers.

Honestly, though, what the heck was her deal? Not only do I not appreciate anyone insinuating I don’t know how to control my child, but I really don’t appreciate you opening your mouth to say something that stupid. No shit the kid wants to run around. The kid wants to fly the plane too, are you going to let her? I guess this idiot would, because then, apparently, she wouldn’t “make noise.”

Furthermore, if I tell my kid she can’t do something, it is not anyone’s place to turn around and tell her she can. Especially a complete stranger.

I just got two words for you, sweetheart…