I kinda promised myself that I wasn't going to get into
social commentary using this blog, because I hate that every Tom, Dick, and
Harry has an opinion about EVERYTHING. I know I can get preachy,
and trust me, I do not need another soapbox.
Unfortunately, this is killing me. I just watched my PVR'd episode of Dr.
Phil's 'Brat Ban', about airlines banning children, or wait staff
asking parents with screaming kids to leave restaurants,
and I feel like I have to say something. Seriously- it's bubbling up
behind my lips (or my fingers, I guess) and if it doesn't come out, my brain
will explode.
It's so simple.
IF YOU DISCIPLINE YOUR OWN FREAKING CHILDREN, RATHER THAN TEACHING
THEM THAT THE WORLD IS THEIR PERSONAL PLAYGROUND, OTHER PEOPLE WILL NOT
HAVE TO DO IT FOR YOU.
Aaaaaaaah. I feel better now.
Seriously. There was a woman on the show who complained that she was asked
to leave a public library because her child was 'cooing' too loudly. Had the
noise actually been a loud 'coo', it STILL would have been disruptive, but they
played some audio of the sound this kid makes when he's happy, and it is
NOT a coo. It is a scream. You know the screamy noise a one year old
makes when they're just learning they have a voice? That godawful,
earsplitting, MOTHER of a screech? No wonder the library asked her to leave.
(Interestingly, it seems this woman then threw a raging temper tantrum about it
and was arrested and banned forever from that particular library. Perhaps the
whole family could do with some behavior modification.)
I don't know about you guys, but I remember when we were growing up, every time
mom took us to the library, she told us on our way in the door to be
quiet. And we were. When did 'Sssh' cease to be the standard for a library? Did
the rules change and I didn't get the memo? This is why I take my kids (and the
dayhome kids) to the library at VERY specific times. We go when everyone is
well rested and no one is having a hard day. We sit together to read, and if
the kids make too much noise after I have asked them once to speak quietly, we
leave. No threats, no tantrums, no embarrassment. Simple as that. I was in
the library the day before yesterday with a 5 year old, a 3 year old, and 2- 1
year olds. We were there for 30 minutes (which is about as long as they
can handle), and everyone behaved beautifully. When I started to notice that
everyone was getting a little tired of the outing, I, AS THE RESPONSIBLE ADULT
IN THE GROUP, made the decision that it was time to go. I did not let the kids
dictate whether we were staying or going, or humor them and wait so long
that they became angry, overtired, and disruptive. Why? Because it's rude.
Because whatever the kids are doing is MY responsibility, not the problem of
everyone else in the building. And because I want to raise adults
who accept the consequences for their own behavior, not overgrown
children who will eventually blame society for their crimes.
Some restaurants are now banning children under the age of 6, or have
a zero tolerance policy for screaming children.
ABOUT FREAKING TIME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
It's not a difficult concept. If you are unable to teach your child table
manners or how to behave acceptably while in a restaurant, you need to
take them somewhere more suited to their skill level. Again- not hard. If
your kid can't sit still, shoves food in double handfuls
into their mouths, or still screams at the dinner table (and at various times,
I have had children who do all those things, sometimes all at once), DOWNGRADE.
Take them to the McDonald's Playland. Take them to Chuck E. Cheese. But do not
take them to La Caille On The Bow or Pasquale's
or Japanese Village and assume that the diners surrounding you
appreciate the dulcet tones of your budding soprano. They do not. If I am going
to pay $35 for my appetizer, you can bet your ass that your screeching child
has ruined my evening, and the evenings of everyone else around you.
It's hard to teach kids to behave. I have taken my kids out of more restaurants
than I can remember actually being in. I have eaten
ribs alone in Tony Roma's while Jason walked around the parking lot with a
2 year old in the throes of a meltdown. He has watched a movie by himself
because Isaiah was screaming and I left the theater. I have repeated the
words "Please take your elbows off the table" until I am blue in the
face. Every time my children speak, I expect to hear 'please' or 'thank you'
follow it. (And trust me- teaching gratitude to a teenager will NOT make you
age gracefully.) I have spent every minute of my parenting life trying to
teach my children how to behave appropriately in as many situations as may
arise in their lifetimes. I KNOW it's possible to teach a 2 year old
to wipe their face and ask "May I please be excused?" when they
leave the dinner table. I have taught it to my kids, and I have taught it
to my dayhome kids. Kids are smart. They understand what is
expected of them, and are more than happy to do it. If you do not expect
kindness, courtesy, and good manners, they will give you exactly that.
Here's the payoff.
The number one compliment I get about my children??? How polite they are.
I can take my teenagers to a fancy restaurant, and they can handle
themselves like champs. There may be some discussion about dessert
forks vs. salad forks, but I can trust that they will put their napkins in
their laps and not knock over the stemware reaching across the table for the
salt. (No- I do not expect this from the little ones. I know my limits. And
theirs.)
That movie Jason watched alone? The manager was so impressed when he saw me
sitting alone in the lobby with my sobbing infant (we figured he'd nap through
the movie, but alas, we were mistaken), that he refunded both our tickets,
gave us 2 free passes for the next time we went, and a $20 gift certificate for
the concession. (That alone should tell you how rarely people with crying
babies actually leave a movie theater.)
When our group of friends went to Disneyland in 2004, we had
with us a 10 year old, three 8 year olds, and two 5 year olds. On an
Alaskan Airlines flight on the way back, the attendant came over to us and
asked if we were Canadian. We were a little confused, but told him yes, we
were. And he smiled and said "I could tell. Your kids are all so polite
and well behaved. I just wanted to thank you for making it such an enjoyable
flight."
Holy crap. Really? Cause we all thought our kids were out of
control. Honestly- we had just spent seven days in the happiest place on
earth and they were coming down from a WICKED sugar high. We figured they had
used up every last ounce of good behavior in them. The six of us adults
beamed all the way home. We smiled for weeks. And it took MONTHS for my mom to
stop having to hear the story every time I called her.
And last November, when Jamie and Shawn and Jason and I and the kids
went to Banff for the weekend, we had dinner at the Grizzly
House (you know that awesome fondue restaurant?). The concept here is
boiling oil. It's fondue. Everything is hot. There are signs posted EVERYWHERE
asking that you keep your children seated so they don't get their faces burned
off.
We timed the dinner well. I made sure 6 month old Eva was just
beginning a nap when we got there, and we made sure the other
kids weren't overly hungry on arrival, because fondue, by nature, is
a long-ass meal.
The expressions on the faces of our two waiters when we walked
in with our baby, (who, by the way, will not get to go this year, as she
will be a toddler and therefore unable to cope
with a two-hour-long, burning hot meal- see how it works????),
our 5 year old, and our gaggle of pre-teens and teenagers was priceless. We had
just ruined their day (and quite possibly their entire weekend, depending upon
how badly it went). We sat down with the kids and let them
order away. Some of them felt more comfortable with beef, chicken,
buffalo or venison, and the more adventurous ones tried shark, alligator,
rattlesnake, ostrich and frog's legs. No one complained about the cheese fondue
that was heavily flavored with Kirsch- they simply tried it, and if they didn't
like it, went on to something else. They were polite to the
waiters, stayed in their seats, and avoided using the phrase
"Ewww! GROSS!!!!” At the end of the evening, both waiters came up and
thanked us for defying their expectations and complimented the kids on
their beautiful manners. (We doubled their already generous tip.)
Who doesn't want to hear that about their children??? Wouldn't you rather have
service people (and, having been one for years, be assured they are a
crusty bunch with very little goodwill) exclaim over how
beautifully your children have comported themselves, rather than have everyone
in a 50 foot radius glaring in your direction and using you as an example in
their next rant about 'kids today'?
Let's recap. It’s not the kids who are the problem. It's us.
As parents, we are tasked with teaching our children to become respectable,
productive members of society. Adults who throw food, loudly monopolize
conversations, belch, slurp, interrupt others and can't sit still are generally
assumed to be either drunk or from Wetaskawin. Neither of these things is
something you want people to think about your offspring.
Would you want your child to be left off the guest list for parties, or have no
one to sit across from at lunch? Do you want people to give
your kid that vacant smile (we've all used it!) when they interrupt a
conversation to talk about themselves for the umpteenth time? To
suddenly realize that they have no social life because they are rude and
unpleasant to be around? This is what happens to people who lack basic manners
and social skills. Why doom your child to that sort of existence? Don't you
want your kids to get everything they can out of life?
SOMEONE has to teach our children how to become adults. For those lazy
parents who can't be bothered to say no, it seems as though
the choice is finally being taken out of their hands.
Thank God.
I have lots of kids, and am doing my level best to screw them up in such completely different ways they can never get a group deal on therapy. So that total strangers aren't doing creepy things with my family's info, I will refer to my husband and baby girl by their middle names, and have allowed the other children to choose their own. Please enjoy the adventures of myself, Jason, Isaiah, Liz, Eva, and Squid.
Tuesday, 13 September 2011
Banning The Brat. A Rant.
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