Other People’s Kids

Ok…..I’m going to say it. This is Shell’s Pour Your Heart Out Wednesdays right?? Ok…here I go…Ready??

I don’t like other people’s kids.

There. I said it. Go ahead throw tomatoes at me or even throw a brick. I know I deserve it. Here’s the truth of the matter. I like my kids. In fact, while they have their moments and drive me insane I LOVE my kids with all of my heart even when they’re screaming, shouting, hitting, kicking, biting, crying, whining, yelling, teasing, talking back, bickering, bossing, and whatever other annoying behaviors may arise. However, if you’re not my kid. Shut. Up.

Now I don’t hate everyone else’s kids. Just those that aren’t related to my close friends. However, if you’re my friend’s kid and you’re a brat…I won’t like you even if I like your mom. In fact…please leave me alone. You’re annoying me.

We’ve been doing quite a bit of visiting of friends lately and all of them have had kids. Some of the kids I loved. You know, the well mannered, sweet, polite ones. The ones that are nice to my kids and even caring. In fact, I look at their mom longingly watching her every move making sure to mimic her with stealth accuracy to ensure that my kids are the same way. Ok, two warnings then a time out. Check. Give them two options for food if they don’t like either they get nothing, they’ll learn to eat what you serve if you only serve what you say. Check. Ok, force them to say their “please” and “thank you’s”. Check. Be consistent with your threats. Check. Play with them. Check. Be their parent before you’re their friend. Check. Love them. Check. Check. Check!

Then there were those visits where the child(ren) were hellions. I’d call them an expletive, but I’ll keep it G rated here. These are the kids that have a look in their eye that glimmers with “I am going to piss you off just because I can” and “I’m a jerk” all at once. Really, if I could shut the door in their face and lock it…twice…I would. But, alas, I don’t give into the fantasy and my adult “good mommy” part of me was able to hold some self-restraint. I will admit that I have bribed one to leave me alone. “Hey, I’ll give you a mini peanut butter cup if you go outside and play in the street on the swing set.” I can’t stand these kids cries, whines, whimpers, or attitude. In fact, once they’re on my bad side it’s hard for me to feel much sympathy for them. I give them “Buck up, buddy!” treatment because well….they’re stinky heads. What I hate most about these kids are their parents. These are the same parents that say, “Hey buddy, knock it off!” as they sit in their lounge chair drinking a beer and continue their conversation while I’m chasing the kids down as I nurse the baby under a Hooter Hider that is now a cape and not hiding the hooters just because I need to make sure that little Buttwipe doesn’t push/hit/kick/hurt my kid again! (Phew, ok, take a breath.)

In fact, one particular kid this past weekend was such a turd that he pushed my kid off of his tricycle and rode off and said “My turn! He fell off!” Every inch of my mommy being wanted to go grab the kid, throw him off the bike, and put my son (who at this point was on the ground with scraped knees and said “Wait! My turn!”) back on the damn bike. Instead, I carefully watched the mom through my dark sunglasses that way she can’t see me giving her and her son the stink-eye. She did the “Hey, give that back!” and that was it. The next time the kid did it I was prepared. I moved him from the desired toy by trying to distract him with shiny lights toys while I helped my son and shooed him away with the toy. Yes, I encouraged my kid to take it and run. No, it wasn’t stealing. It was protecting his assets. It’s a life lesson, people!

Now, while I know it’s really quite an awful thing for me to say and I know there are plenty of people out there reading this thinking, “But they’re just kids!” I can’t help but think that I’d rather pull the hairs out of my head one by one than deal with those kids any more. Seriously, one….by…..one. I understand that kids can be little butts sometimes and each child (mine included) have days where they need fulfill their turd bucket quota. It’s the kids that aced Turd Bucket Filling 401 (the graduate course) and failed at Manners 101 (the community college course) that drive me bonkers.

Like I said, if you’re my friend and I believe in you as a parent then I’m cool with your kids. If not…well here’s a mini peanut butter cup.

Do you like other people’s kids?? Share with us at Mothers’ Hideaway!