June Renew: Day Fourteen
Keepin’ it Kid-Friendly
There was a time in my life I was so sure I’d never be a parent. And then I got out of my twenties. Now, it feels like an attainable goal with absolutely no need to rush into it. I was a week ‘late’ a month ago, and while I eventually found my flow, it proved to me just how not ready I am for this, despite the desire being expressed here many times over. I’d never get rid of a miracle that occurred, but I still have things to do before my mom gene fully takes over every aspect of my life.
Because it will. It has to, unless you’re a neglectful parent. And by the way I was raised and who my mother was, that seems an impossibility for my parenting skills. I’m just not there yet. I still have a lot of dating to do (and craft beer to drink) before I can even think about getting all knocked up and poppin’ out a kid. Still, the wish never goes away. Until then, I am a humble observer of the parenting process. No need to jump into the main objective when I’ve only got a whiff of a clue about it.
Son of a Subway
A couple of years back, I was sitting on the subway when a mom and her kid came on. The train wasn’t very crowded, but they both sat next to me on the three-seater anyway. It must have been the A or the C because there was an overhead digital indicator telling us the time, the current stop, and the next stop. I heard the kid ask his mom a question. “What time is it?” the little voice squeaked out next to me.
Mom told him the time. If that was the end of it, I would not be relaying this story. Because moments after she informed him, a forceful voice came from my right. “You know what? READ! READ! The time is right there!” I could feel her pointing toward the overhead signage, simply appalled by the injustice that her son didn’t seem to notice the same digital clock she did. I sat there in silence for a few beats, as did the little boy, feeling my stomach drop at the realization he must have been used to this kind of needless parental backlash.
My stop was quick approaching, and I just didn’t want to let this go. It felt too harsh, too cruel, another horrible realization that she must be even worse in private if she’s willing to be like this in public. With a deep breath, I turned to the kid and spoke, “You know, it’s okay to ask questions if you don’t know something.” His head whipped toward his mother, who I couldn’t bring myself to look at, probably wondering why this weird curly-haired woman was speaking to him. With that, I got up and stood by the doors, hearing him ask something else to his mother, to which she muttered about “people” being odd or not knowing their place.
I wasn’t altogether dissatisfied with my actions, as I had hoped what I said made some sort of impact, moreso for mom than the kid. But it wasn’t really right, either. He wasn’t my child. I had no right to say a word. Not everyone’s parenting style is going to make sense, and it’s not up to me to act like Captain Save-a-Kid-that-isn’t-mine.
What’s My Style
Kids are kids. They’re going to annoy you sometimes. But they’re also going to love you too if you play the parent game right. No one actively tells you how to parent, it’s all a learning process, where you can get your education in and out of the home. Why, just this afternoon, while sitting on this train I’m currently on, there was a kid acting crazy and being loud, just so excited to be riding the train with his dad. He kept asking which stop we were at, how many stops left, and all sorts of other inane questions. Dad did have to shush him a few times, and all I thought was if that were my kid, I’d never let his voice get to that cadence to begin with.
But isn’t it so easy for me to judge from afar. For me to judge when I have no clue what it’s like to live with children. I guess one day I’ll see. Maybe I’ll simply keep my mouth shut about another person’s kids from that day forward. Because whoever wants to pass judgment on my kid will rue the day mama bear made her claws come out. Especially if I take my kid to the next brewery we go to. It’s a thing. Believe me.