As you probably know, I don't have kids. I'm not planning on having kids anytime soon, and if, perchance, you see a post from me anytime in the near future detailing my pregnancy, just trust that it will have taken me a couple of months to get over the wanting-to-throw-myself-down-the-stairs syndrome and come to grips with my brand new life.
Because having kids? THAT IS A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT WORLD. And, as I found out a couple of weeks ago, one in which I am apparently not all that welcome.
Don't get me wrong, now. I actually like kids quite a bit. I enjoy spending time with them, getting to hear the super-honest and hilarious things that come out of their mouths on an hourly basis, and having the chance to see the world through their eyes. I mean, it's awesome, to be taken out of my normal routine just to stare up at the clouds as an airplane flies by, and get to spend the next 15 minutes explaining that yes, there are things called airplanes, and someday, you can fly in one! Way up there! And it's not scary at all! I think that sort of thing is awesome. I don't know about you, but I take so much for granted, that I honestly forget how amazing the world we live in really is.
So, it's not kids that give me the willies. It's the complete and total life change, including little-to-no sleep, super-early nights in, extremely limited flexibility, and HAVING TO DEAL WITH OTHER MOMMIES. Oh my gosh, I am NOT ready for the Mommy Brigade.
A few weeks ago one of my best friends called me, wondering if maybe I could watch her 2 1/2 year-old for a day because due to a last-minute event her normal childcare provider had to attend, she was kind of at a loss. Because I have a ridiculously flexible schedule, and also because I have quite a soft spot for the kid in question, I was more than happy to do it.
So I get to their house about 7:30am. Which, first of all, wow. I don't remember the last time I got ANYWHERE at 7:30am, unless it was an airport where I was planning on boarding a plane to sleep, or home after being out all night. But that's okay! 7:30. Getting up early is good for your character. Or something.
Me and my 2.5 year old partner, who will henceforth be referred to as Little Miss (LM), watched a show about sunny spider patches, got a quick snack, went outside, played on the fort, swung on the swings, played some game where I carried a Dora umbrella up a ladder and then threw it down so LM could run around with it and do something that also involved the cat, played in the sprinklers, got super wet and muddy, went inside, took a bath, started a load of laundry, and got re-dressed (me in a shirt borrowed from LM's mom, and LM in an Ariel costume). After all of this, I looked at my watch and it was 9:15.
NINE-FIFTEEN. AM.
So, after searching the premises for some kind of wormhole time-continuum loop that I might have inadvertently gotten caught in, I checked my watch against all the house clocks and came to grips with the fact that it really wasn't even ten o'clock yet. And I kind of started to panic. Right about that time, my sister-in-law called me to see if I wanted to meet her and my nephew for lunch. I most certainly did. I wanted to know if they wanted to eat maybe at 10:30am, or was that too early? She laughed and we made plans to meet at noon.
LM and I took turns painting, I braided her hair, we played outside a little more, and about 11am, we started getting ready to leave. I knew this was going to take a while, since getting a carseat into my car normally takes me about six hours and three downloaded internet manuals and instead of getting dressed, LM wanted to run around the backyard naked. I finally wrangled the carseat into my car and LM into actual clothing and we left for Chick-Fil-A.
Upon arriving at Chick-Fil-A, my sister-in-law and I selected a table directly in front of the little play area so that if LM decided to play, I would be able to watch her very easily. Also, because LM is what you might call a finicky eater (if you wanted to seriously downplay things), I figured she'd probably end up spending significantly more time in the play area than at the table eating anything at all. So once LM looked at her chicken nuggets and started to give me cry-face at the horrible, awful thought of having to put them into her mouth, we headed to the play area.
Now would be a good time for me to describe this play area. The room consists of two big slides, big climbing stairs that go up to the slides, a wall with blocks and pictures and wheels and other tactile-response things all over it, and a small bench. LM is too small to make it up the climbing stairs to go down the big slides, so she had to entertain herself with the wall o' objects or by climbing up the inside of the slide and sliding down that way. I sat in the play area watching LM play for quite a while, and then headed back out to sit at the table, eat the offensive chicken nuggets, and watch the kiddies play.
There were about four or five kids besides LM in the play area, two of whom seemed to be siblings, a fact I gleaned from watching one mother run in and out of the area about as much as I did, always talking to the same two kids. This mother was sitting with several other mommies and their children at a table near mine, but with not quite as good of a vantage point in relation to the play area. I would say that about every three to four minutes either she or I would go into the play area to check on the kids, me because I was nervous about the protocol of whether I needed to be in there the whole time or if it was okay for me to just watch, and her because one of her two kids kept screaming.
And when I say screaming, I don't mean screaming and crying. I just mean SCREAMING, at a really high pitch, just screaming about whatever, and then running around some more and playing. At one point, I was sitting on the play area bench and this mom comes running in to address the screaming and she asks me, in a super-snippy tone, if the little boy is screaming because he is upset, or what the deal is. I am kind of at a loss, as I have no idea what her kid is like or what he does when he's upset, and I just say something intelligent and helpful like "umm, I think he's not upset? He seems to be ok?" She wonders out loud why he keeps screaming, gives him a half-hearted "stop making so much noise", and then leaves the play area.
At this point, I'm a little wary of this particular mommy.
Pretty soon, I'm making another round trip, Table to Play Area and back, and the mommy is walking in because (guess!) her kid is screaming again. I pause to see what's going on, and as the mom pulls the screamer out of the slide, she sees her little girl behind him, and apparently the girl is actually crying. Not just screaming incoherently about nothing. So she grabs the little girl, asks her what's wrong, and since the little girl is A) crying too hard to talk and B) only about 2 and therefore not super-advanced at linguistics, the mom decides that the best approach is to assume what might have happened. As the door is closing behind me, I hear the mom saying "oh my gosh, it looks like someone bit your finger. Did someone bite your finger, sweetie?" The girl responds with "waaahhh!" and I think to myself that they had better not blame LM, as the screamer and the crier were both in the slide and LM was playing by herself on the other side of the area at the wall o' objects.
I sit down at the table, and sure enough, about one minute later, the mommy sticks her head out of the door, points to LM, and asks me if "that girl" is my child. I tell her that she's not, but that she is with me, and is there a problem? We proceed to have the following conversation:
Evil Mommy: "WELL, I just thought you might want to know that YOUR LITTLE GIRL is going around BITING OTHER CHILDREN."
Me: Is she? Wow, okay...I mean, are you sure?
EM: OF COURSE I'm sure, I mean, look at her finger! (shows me the finger, which looks completely normal, maybe a little bit red, and shows no bite marks whatsoever)
Me: Uhhhh...
EM: I mean, I just thought you should KNOW, as a MOTHER. I know that I, as a MOTHER, would want to know if MY CHILD was going around BITING OTHER CHILDREN.
Me (getting frustrated by the accusations): Okay, sure, but like I just told you, she isn't my child, and of course I would want to know if she was biting people, but that would be REALLY out of character for her, and wasn't she down on the ground playing by that wall?
EM: Look, I'm not trying to pass judgment on you, but if MY CHILD was biting, I would definitely want to know so that I could do something about it. I mean, she almost broke the skin here.
Me: Okay, of course, if she bit her, then I am so sorry. I just don't see how she could have, and it's really hard for either of us to know considering that neither of us were in there when it happened.
EM (looking incredulous): IF she bit her? Honey, did that little girl bite you? (crying girl says nothing) See, THAT little girl, right there (pointing at LM) - do you see her? Did she bite your finger? (crying girl still says nothing, just sniffs and wipes her nose and kind of buries her head in her mom's chest)
Me: LM, let me ask you. Did you bite this little girl? You know that biting is wrong, don't you?
LM: I didn't bite her.
Me: Well, do you see how sad this little girl is? Can you tell her that you're sorry she's sad?
LM (shyly): I'm sorry you're sad.
Me (looking pointedly at EM): Well, I don't know what else you want me to do here.
EM: Hrumph. You might want to keep an eye on her, if she's going to bite. Things could get really nasty once she does break the skin on someone. I'm just saying, PARENT TO PARENT. I'd want to know that. If I were you.
EM exits to the bathroom, with crying girl in tow. All the other mommies at the table give me condescending looks and commence to AUDIBLY whisper about me and LM.
Now for me, the problem here is not whether or not LM actually bit the little girl. I mean, regardless of the fact that it would have had to be a super-ninja bite, requiring LM to run up inside the slide, bite the girl, run back down out of the slide, avoid displacing the girl and her brother from the slide, and then stand at the wall on the other side of the area playing by herself, I will still give consideration to the possibility that LM did bite the girl. I'm just wondering who, in their RIGHT MIND, approaches problems the way Evil Mommy did? I mean, does that work with ANYONE?
In my mind, kids are kids, and if you and me both decide to let them play, relatively unsupervised, then we kind of need to be prepared for what happens. And if I think your kid hit or bit or screamed at mine? Well, I might bring it to your attention. That I think it MIGHT have happened. But accusing probably-innocent toddlers of things they can't possibly defend themselves from, and other parents of bad parenting? When the very reason the situation occurred is because you and the "bad parent" made the exact same choice to watch from afar? Really? This what mommyhood is all about?
I'll continue to take a pass, thanks.