I have no qualms in admitting that I am not the most maternal person on the planet. I wasn’t the parent, between the two of us, who crawled around on the floor with our girls. Nor did I build doll houses, or anything else that resembled playing. Yannick did all that stuff, very well, with such a love and vigor, that I don’t even think our girls missed the fact that I didn’t do it. Not once do I recall lying in my bed, as a young girl, dreaming about one day having a white picket fence, with a loving husband, plenty of children, and an apron on while I whipped up delightful meals for my knight in shining armor.
I was ambitious. I always wanted to be an independent woman, who made her own way, and her own money. But something happened along the way. I met and fell crazy in love with a boy at eighteen, was pregnant by nineteen, and with a family of four by the time I was twenty-one.
How the fuck did that happen?
Well, I mean I know how it happened, inconsistent birth control is actually, HOW it happened. What I don’t get is how did I go from having such a clear vision for my future, yet ended up with a completely different one??? It has always, and still does make me “go hmmm.” When “they” say the universe has it’s own plan for your life, “they” are not kidding around.
So here I am. Close to twenty-eight years later, with three incredible young women, who call me mom. Even though I didn’t crave motherhood, I must say that once it came upon me I took it seriously, and gave it my all. My all wasn’t necessarily always a good thing, but hey, that’s what therapy is for!
The amazing thing about having our first at nineteen, and barely even knowing each other, never mind having the foresight to discuss how we would parent children should we ever make it that far in our new relationship to maybe, possibly get married, is how completely and entirely in sync we were about how we wanted to raise them. We were utterly, and completely on the same page. It was fantastic, and gave us one less thing to fight about. We both agreed for consequence for negative behavior. We didn’t allow fit throwing. We didn’t tolerate whining, or disrespect toward us, or one another, and no lying.
What I don’t understand these days, is why are so many people’s children SCREECHING????
Like yelling down the restaurants. The grocery stores. Movie theatres. Clothing stores. Book stores. Coffee shops. Playgrounds. Backyards. Airplanes. Jesus, Joseph, and Mary, the children screeching on AIRPLANES. What the hot hell is going on out there, parents???
Everywhere I go, even restaurants that say on their websites, no children under a certain age, somehow have them in there. And they are doing, guess what?
Not laughing, not giggling, not talking, not being joyful, cute, additions to society. They aren’t even crying.
Nope, none of that.
They are simply squealing a most disturbing high pitched, long winded, consistent, screeching sound, that their parents are immune to.
Without fail I attempt to make eye contact with their parents, desperately trying to communicate with them that, “HELLO. ARE YOU NOT ABOUT TO GO DEAF FROM YOUR CHILD’S HIGH PITCHED SCREECHING IN YOUR EAR?? HELLO. PLEASE MAKE IS STOP.” But nothing. The parent’s don’t react. They carry on as if it is not happening, while the rest of the human race, within ear shot of the behavior is going deaf. We have new neighbors behind us, actually we have two different sets of neighbors behind us, both with two little girls, and each family has one screecher. Let’s just say, it’s not enjoyable to sit outside in our garden trying to read, or write. Which is so shitty, cuz why should it be that the families with the screeching children are the only ones able to enjoy their outdoor space. We both pay mortgages, and property taxes.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not an old cranky bitch who isn’t maternal. I love the sound of kids playing outdoors, God knows there isn’t enough of that anymore. It’s a very cool, healthy thing. But this is not that. This is not kids just being kids and loving life.
This is something entirely, disturbingly different. So please, please make it stop. It’s not that hard. You just look your child in the eyes, and say: “No. You do not scream like that. You need to use your words.” And like a puppy, you do it over, and over again until they get it. And stop.
Because honestly, I’m sorry parents of the new screeching generation, I just don’t get how you can ignore that behavior. I ask, no I beg, if you’re reading this, and you have a screecher, please take into consideration that the rest of us are not immune to it. Please know, that your screeching child is totally ruining the atmosphere of whatever establishment they are in by not being parented, by being allowed to carry on in that way. And also, we’re paying customers, just like you, so it would be fab if we could enjoy our dinner, shopping, or whatever it is we’re paying for in peace.
All the people of the world without screeching children thank you.