When You Don’t Have Kids

Alternate Title: Lost in the Land of Sippie Cups and Slobber

We were in the grocery store the other day, and there was a grandfather in the store (a young grandfather – I might add) with his two grandchildren – both boys. We were all standing by the deli counter and after some general mayhem and misbehavior, one of the boys started swinging his coat in wide circles. After the second time the sturdy metal zipper hit me in the arm, I had enough.

Normally I wouldn’t say anything, but my arm was starting to get sore, and the young grandfather was obviously not going to put a stop to it. Finally, I looked at the kid sternly and said, “That’s enough.” Now, he was old enough to have flipped me the bird and muttered an obscenity, but I’ll give him credit for dropping the coat and looking ashamed.

The grandfather finally looked up from his “zoning out” at that point and speedily processed what had happened. His response? A bland “That’s enough, Kevin.” They eventually moved away from us and a few aisles later I spied Kevin swinging his coat around trying to knock things off the shelf.

“Kids,” I muttered, and my husband nodded gamely beside me.

Then yesterday my husband and I went on a romantic anniversary (6 years now!) date to scenic Edward’s Apple Orchard. It was the perfect day for it as evidenced by the 1.6 million other people who were also there. We didn’t mind the crowds. The hustle and bustle added to the cold zip of the day, the beautiful changing leaves, and the hauntingly delicious smell of Edward’s famous apple cider donuts.

As we were waiting in line for the donuts – yes, they are so famous and so delicious that people are willing to stand in line – the father in front of us suddenly went berserk. He solidly spanked the little boy next to him, hoisted him in the air and, inches from his face, and yelled, “Why did you bite Daddy? That hurt.” He then stormed out of the line carrying the kid under his arm like a football.

Brett and I raised our eyebrows at each other and simply smiled.

About an hour later, we were in the line for the orchard gift shop. A few little tots in the line had discovered the brightly painted (and hollow) milk crocks that held the rope line place. First one kid started pounding on a milk crock, and then one by one the little tot army caught on, and before we knew it, the entire line was being serenaded by what sounded like a poorly rehearsed Jamaican band.

The mothers of these tots did nothing to stop them. In fact they were smiling like it was cute. It was not cute. It was annoying. I didn’t come to the apple orchard for a romantic date with my husband to listen kids misbehave in chorus, just like I didn’t go to the grocery store to be assaulted by a metal zipper on the end of a swinging coat.

When the pounding and faintly metallic zing finally faded into a dull ache in our heads, Brett pointed out the sign at the orchard entrance. No Pets Allowed.

“I don’t know why not,” he said. “Our rabbits are ten times better behaved than those kids.” And I agreed with him.

When you don’t have kids, it’s easy to dislike them at times. Not having had children, we lack the experience and in-bred patience of many parents. My friend Julie (who has 2 kids) says it’s normal for most parents to love their own kids but still have trouble putting up with other people’s offspring. It was a great comfort for me to hear this. You see, I thought it was just me.

My husband would die before admitting this, but he doesn’t like kids. Well, that’s not entirely true. He only likes well-behaved kids. I, having a little more insight on this matter, have told him many times that no child comes well-behaved – that’s a matter left to nature and good parenting.

And to us, acceptable parenting has come down to one piece of advice – Parents, watch your children! That’s all we ask.

There’s a cute towheaded four year old who lives on our lovely suburban cul-de-sac. The cutie pie is allowed to play in the street. We’ve almost hit him with our car twice now because he darts out into the street without caution. Our pastor was visiting us one time and almost hyperventilated when he narrowly missed mowing the kid down with his car. I still can’t believe any capable parents would allow this kind of negligent behavior! They are risking their son’s life.

Here are some other things to keep in mind:

Kids looking over the seats in restaurants – not cute, annoying

Kids running up and down the aisles of anywhere – not cute, a hazard

Kids yelling anywhere other than with other kids on a playground setting – not cute, noise pollution

Kids in stores – if you don’t watch your kids in stores, you are asking everyone else to be your babysitter. Believe me, the rest of us don’t want the job. And the store (my mother assures me from many years in retail) doesn’t want your kid’s sticky fingerprints and slobber all over their merchandise.

Addendum – It isn’t fair to your kids to take them to stores where they will want to touch stuff. So either instruct them on proper behavior before hand and then follow through (for goodness sake) or DON’T BRING THEM AT ALL! PLEASE!

Okay, now I know I’m starting to sound like that grumpy neighborhood lady who yells at kids to get off her lawn and lives with 100 cats, but I’m being honest. And yes, I probably will change if God ever grants us kids. And, yes, I do like kids (for the most part), but I’ve seen well-behaved kids that made me proud to be a member of society, and then I’ve seen kids who I honestly hope will be abducted by aliens, re-programmed, and returned to earth with some sort of Good Behavior Chip.

All right, I know all the mothers out there are probably rolling their eyes and telling themselves that I have no idea how hard being a parent can be. And you are right. So, why don’t you pray that God will grant us children, so I can learn all about it? Now, that would be great.

And, just think, you’ll be able to tell me, “I told you so!”

But, please swear to me that if you ever see me being passive about my kid swinging his coat around whacking innocent bystanders with a zipper, you’ll rip the coat out of his hands and beat me half to death with it. Please? I don’t ever want to be THAT kind of a parent!