I’m the type of person where, if you compliment my shirt, I’m not just going to say thank you. I’m going to excitedly rattle on and on about where I got it, how much I paid, and how soft it is. I might even insist you touch the fabric. It’s not just because I’m socially awkward. I just can’t accept a compliment like a regular person. I can’t just poop out a “thank you” and be done with it. No. I must inform you of all the truths. ALL OF THEM. Even if you didn’t ask. Even if you don’t care. Even if you were just trying to be nice. YOU. MUST. KNOW. If I got a sweet ass deal on this shirt, I’m gonna tell you. Clearance? Oh, you’re gonna hear about it. Thrift store score? I’ll tell you which one to go to because they have the best shit. You’re gonna LEARN TODAY.
I physically cannot just say thank you. It’s impossible.
Same goes when you compliment my kids’ behavior.
Take yesterday for example. I make my hair appointments far in advance because it’s MY time, and it takes a lot of time, and I want to make sure that I give enough notice for my husband to be able to work from home. Due to sort-of unforseen circumstances, things didn’t quite go as planned for the appointment that was yesterday. Husband couldn’t just work from home. This meant the kids had to come with me. Joy of joys.
Knowing they’d be sitting, bored, annoyed, annoying, for hours at a time? Not fair to them, me, or anyone that might be within listening distance at the salon. I’m not a HUGE fan of bringing tablets along to shut the kids up. I want my kids to learn to just sit and wait patiently without needing something to distract them because I don’t know why, I just do, but if they were going to be sitting for HOURS… it was crack-tablet time. Luckily I have two, so they don’t have to argue over one of them- which meant no moderation from me with bleach on half my head.
This just had to last until husband finished whatever important crap he had to do at work so he could come to the salon and take them home from there.
Three and a half hours. It took three and a half hours. I don’t know anyone on earth who expects children to sit still for three and a half hours, but that’s what mine had to do. Much to everyone’s, especially my, surprise, they did it.
They sat, they played, they didn’t complain (very much, the salon has slow wifi which is apparently a deal breaker according to my 9 year old)
Three and a half hours of well-behaved children equals three and a half hours of compliments from strangers!
“Oh, they’re so well behaved!”
“They’re such good kids! Look how quiet they are!”
“Your boys are being so much more well behaved than most kids!”
I could have done it. I could have smiled and taken the compliments, patted myself on the back, and walked away with the Mom of the Day award. Actually, no I couldn’t have.
“It’s because they have the tablets”
“Yeah… it won’t last long”
“Nah… not at all. Give it time.”
Why am I such a negative twat? Why am I crapping on my kids behavior instead of praising it?
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again- I don’t think my kids are bad kids. I thank them for being well-behaved in situations they get stuck into without a choice where they could have been raging shitbags. But I’m not delusional about their behavior, and neither should strangers be.
Five seconds after my husband shows up to pick them up the wifi goes on the fritz and one of my kids loses his shit, and very suddenly the praise goes to confusion and “does he always act like that”s?
See. You put them on a pedestal and they have a very long way to fall.
My kids having people surprised and disappointed in them for acting like the flawed humans we all are isn’t really something I’m cool with. I’d rather people just be realistic. They’re normal. They have ups and downs. There’s no need to make comments on ANY of it like it’s abnormal. It’s not.
You wouldn't sniff a stranger's butt to see who pooped their pants.... so you probably shouldn't do these other parental things to strangers, either. holdinholden.com/2017/12/weir…
Weird Things you do for your kids but not Strangers goo.gl/fb/oVuwvG
Tis the season! pic.twitter.com/5VgMLnt22E
I am weak pic.twitter.com/LYdRQ6EZcC
You know that feeling when you don't chew a chip all the way and it cuts you all the way down and you swear it's gonna kill you, but you go ahead have another right after? That's what it's like when you decide to have another kid.