Our Neighbors Think We're Heathens

My neighbors think we’re horrific parents.

I’m convinced of this is fact.

It’s spring, everyone’s outside, windows are open, wind’s blowing in the right direction…life couldn’t be better. We live in a very urban area – I can almost touch my house and my neighbor’s house at the same time.

So, I’m outside drinking wine and watching the kids live-out their childhood. Occasionally I’ll wave to a neighbor with that calm, collective, “what’s up man! Life’s good…just relaxing with the family” kinda wave.

Usually that’s the kid’s cue to go absolutely ballistic.

Immediately the boy yells “I said no Macy now STOOOOOP!!!!” Then rides away on his bicycle towards the corner of the street inches from going into traffic.

As I’m running down the sidewalk carrying wine, yelling “HONEY…GRAB MACY…SHE’S BLEEDING” I happen to notice half the neighborhood stopping mid-discussion and turning towards our rabid family.

“WHAT?!” my wife screeches from inside the house.

“GRAB MACY…GRAYSON MADE HER BLEED AND NOW HE’S RIDING HIS BIKE INTO TRAFFIC!!”

This is where I bring the scene to a screeching halt and reveal that we are actually the “older” family on the block. My kids are almost 6 and 8. The average age of the rest of the block’s children… 1.7 years old. So they’re standing there in horror as they watch elements of parenthood unfold that they have yet to experience.

As they gather their children and herd them away from the scene with disappointing looks on their faces I can almost hear them mumbling “we’ll never be like that will we George?”

“Never Marcia. We’ll never parent like those heathens!”

The neighborhood air is consistently filled with the loving ramblings of our family-of-four as sentiments such as these come flying out our house windows regularly:

 “I said GO BRUSH YOUR TEETH!!! How many times do I have to ask you?”

“I AAAMMMM finishing in the shower…geeeeze!!”

“OOOOWWWW daddy!!! Your pulling my hair, let me comb it!!!”

“Mooooommmyyyyyyy Macy won’t stop snoring!!”

“NO! You cannot have a chocolate bar while you go to sleep!! That’s just insane! Now go to bed!!”

“But honey!!! I thought tonight was really going to be ‘the’ night!?”

I think back to before we had kids and I remember the many times in the grocery seeing the mother say to the little boy, “stop touching things on the shelf. Do you hear me?! One more time Mr. and you’re in BIG trouble.”

And I always thought…I’d never, NEVER talk to MY kids like that. Guess it goes to show the number one rule as a parent is never say “I’ll never.”

Now if I can get my wife to stop talking to me like that in the grocery…

Back-Off Old Lady!

This past weekend I took the boy to the grocery store for some much needed staples and people watching. Along the journey I gathered my regular stock of the alcoholic suds and tossed them carefully in the buggy along with my other goods, not even realizing they would soon instigate rage within one innocent by-stander.

A few minutes later I’m putting groceries on the conveyor belt while a few moms are smiling at the boy’s eagerness to help. I then lift from under the buggy a case of beer and put it along with the rest of my grub. Being the kind, gentle being that I am, I then grab the line-break plastic thingy and placed it behind the case of beer to let the nice little old lady behind me know she could now begin putting her old-lady groceries on the belt.

As I smiled at her and give her a friendly nod, the devil himself ripped through her skin and said loudly, “how could you do THAT!?! Buying alcohol in front of such a young impressionable boy? SHAME on you!”

My initial reaction was to clench my ass, as not to shat myself, pull my son close to me for protection and roam the store with my eyes to make sure I wasn’t on some lame-ass hidden camera show. What seemed like hours passed between when she spat her verbal stupidness to when the rage from within me boiled to the point of explosion.

Pushing the boy behind me I say, “what do you THINK I’m going to do with it when I get home you psycho bitch?!”

Now, I’ll be the first to admit that was not a well thought-out response. In fact, it was just wrong. But I was pissed. Who feels they are ever righteous enough to say something like that to someone? In my mind I’m thinking:

• Why didn’t she just shake her head in disapproval then go call her friend Marge to bitch about it?

• Didn’t she notice it was just beer? And cheap canned beer at that! It’s not like I was on a playground buying crack using my son’s piggy-bank for the loot.

• Why did she have to say it so loud? Oh…cause she needed to hear herself cause she’s probably hard of hearing…never mind. That one was legit.

I could have yelled at her for buying so much prune juice and raisins, pointing-out the fact that the sewer issues in this city are because of people like her!

Regardless, what gives her or anyone else the right? What I do in my own home is not for her or anyone to assume, conjecture, and act upon in a public arena. If she wants to go home and journal about it and use it to make herself feel better about her own dysfunctional family, fine!

We’d all be better people if we could keep our comments to ourselves and come down from that ivory tower long enough to….

Ahhh…who am I kidding, if that were the case, people watching at grocery stores, malls and airports wouldn’t be such an important part of my life and I’d be unhappier for it. Judging is human nature. It’s what makes us wake up in the morning and think, my life isn’t as shit as that guy’s life! So judge away kids…have fun with it, but just keep it to yourself. And, just know that no matter your age, race, or sex, if you take the risk of voicing what you’re judging me for, you’re gonna get it right the hell back!