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Tag Archives: kids
Apparently they’re called “Helicopter Parents”. And apparently “Helicopter Parents” are a bigger problem than I was aware of.
They’re such a problem, in fact, that due to an influx of said “Helicopter Parents”, kids in Colorado Springs, CO will not be able to participate in the annual Easter Egg Hunt. IT’S CANCELLED! Why? Because of the “aggressive parents who swarmed into the tiny park last year, determined that their kids get an egg.” I’m not kidding.
Apparently, “Helicopter Parents” refuse to let their children fail at anything–including Easter Egg hunts. But it gets worse. Not only are these parents taking away fun activities from their kids, but they’re also taking away all of their chances to learn anything for themselves.
I have no problem with parents that take an interest in their kids’ lives–but come on! I don’t think kids should “win” at everything. Losing builds character. Making mistakes allows kids to learn. Trying things and not being afraid to try them gives kids opportunities. None of these things are possible with overprotective parents hovering around every turn.
I know this is pretty much what I talked about last Friday, but it deserves a second post. Hovering. Pfff.
Note: I know I said I would post wedding photos last night…but it just didn’t happen. My apologies. They will be up here eventually. I swear it (do you trust me?).
But I did want to discuss this whole parenting thing again. I know I went through a whole series on raising my youngins. In my head, I have a clear picture of what I think is important in raising children—what I will do, what I want do, how I want them to behave.
But the truth is this: I am not a parent. As desperately as I would love to be one right now, it’s just not in the cards until Mike gets here and I get married. But I came across this gem of an article called “Apologies to the Parents I Judged Four Years Ago”.
In the article, Kara Gebhart Uhl talks about how she said she would use cloth diapers, and how she judged folks who let their kids watch Nick Jr. all day and fed their children McNuggets.
Here’s an excerpt:
Pre-children: I was going to cloth diaper.
Post-children: I did with my daughter, sort of, but not with my twins.
Pre-children: No TV until age of 2 and then only 30 minutes a day.
Pre-children: Only organic, healthy, homemade food.
Post-children: My kids love Wendy’s.
Pre-children: Public tantrums are unacceptable.
Post-children: Removal of the child is only sometimes doable; predicting when a tantrum is going to strike is often impossible.
Pre-children: Complaints about childrearing and its hardships annoyed me (this was your choice, no?) and saddened me (parenthood is supposed to be a wonderful thing!).
Post-children: Parenthood isn’t wonderful 100 percent of the time.
I was intrigued by this article for obvious reasons…but I felt so…opposite.
You see, I do judge parents (even as a non-parent) right now. But I don’t judge them for the same things that Kara does. I judge them for trying to feed children all-organic, all-the-time. I judge the parents who don’t let their kids play in the dirt. I get angry whenever they rush over to a kid who’s fallen lightly on his padded little ass and is obviously not hurt at all.
I judge parents for being unrealistic. Maybe, just maybe, because of this, I won’t be so shocked when I have children. I hope I don’t judge wrongly. I probably do though.
You’re the parents…tell me.
I respect men who don’t want to have kids…but I certainly don’t want to date them.
If you ask me, the whole point of living is to leave a legacy, and what better way to do that than to have children. Whether they’re biological, adopted, whatever–if you can be a part of a child’s life as they grow up, you can leave a legacy.
Most of you know that I have a condition called Glowing Ovaries. Luckily, I don’t have to wear thick shirts or extra jackets to hide the two glowing orbs in my midsection, but oh do I feel the glow. Mostly every time I hold a baby, get near a baby, hear about a baby, see a PICTURE of a baby. Ugh. It’s sick, isn’t it?
I want kids so bad. I look forward to pregnancy. I just think that the most rewarding thing in the world would be to have children, to make memories for them, to give them something to tell their kids about.
For instance, when it was my birthday, my mom would wake my little brother and my dad and they would sneak into my room while I was still sleeping and decorate it with streamers and balloons and put all my presents on the floor around me bed. When I woke up, I was surrounded by color and fun and the sheer glee that is having a kid birthday. We did the same for my brother, probably both of us, every year until we were ten. I LOVE that.
So I guess that won’t be nearly as fun without a man who wants to do that…much less a man who doesn’t want to give me kids.
Oh, and this post wouldn’t be about kids without at least one adorable baby picture:
My brother will probably kill me for putting this up here, but when I was younger, I had one of these Barbie styling heads. After I fell asleep, my parents saw my brother army crawl into my bedroom, grab this thing by the hair, and army crawl it back across the hall to his own bedroom. In the morning, they found the styling head next to him on the pillow, covered up to her plastic chin with my brother sleeping soundly beside her.
Now, my brother had all the typical boy toys, but once in awhile, he did something like this. It made him no less manly. He simply desired an object. Bro turned out to be quite desired by the lady folk…and I think I know why. I mean, as a toddler, he bedded BARBIE!
But we’re back to gender roles, here. I’m sure you’ve all seen “Riley on Marketing” by now. If not, here you go:
So Riley doesn’t understand why all the girls’ stuff is pink and all the boys’ stuff is all the other colors. I kind of
I once knew a little boy whose sole purpose for becoming potty-trained was so he could pick out his own underwear. And when his father took him to the store, he went straight for the Disney princesses. He didn’t care if they were pink or had girls on them. It was what he liked.understand her. But Lord, just because something is pink doesn’t mean that girls HAVE to buy it, and that boys can’t. I mean, when I was a kid, my Barbies played with my brother’s Batman and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle figurines all the time. And if I wanted my own Batman, I could have had one. Hell, I had a Vac-Man from Stretch Armstrong.
So I have to say that I’m not sure color completely deters children from wanting what they want.
This article asks:
So who has it right? Should gender be systematically expunged from playthings?
NO! Toys are toys, damnit. It’s not like I didn’t know a billion little girls with Legos, K’Nex, Lincoln Logs, toy cars, Nerf guns, and all the other fun boy stuff. At the same time, I also knew tons of little boys who used Barbie as GI Joe’s girlfriend. But if you took away my girly toys when I was younger, I would have FLIPPED.
Toys can be gender-specific! And kids can (and will) play with whatever they want, regardless of color, or shape, or of who it’s marketed to.
If you haven’t noticed by now, I haven an affection for a manly man and a respect for a womanly woman. That’s not to say that I don’t respect all types of men and women–just that I have an affection for those types of men and women.
I’ve talked a thousand times about how I was raise my kids. I’ve talked about how I want my boys to be lil rough-housers, little manly men, and I’ve talked about how I want my kids to be tough, much like my friend Jenny wants for her kids. I hope that I can raise girls who are strong and still have a respect for old values, but still have minds of their own (shocking, isn’t it?)
So I think it’s really funny when people say, “Your daughters are going to be feminists!” or “Your little boys are going to want to crochet…” or “Your kids are going to be geeks who never leave the house.”
I don’t understand why people have such a problem with the way I want to raise my children. I mean, 1, they’re going to be my kids, and 2, if you don’t like them, you never have to talk to them. I promise.
I’m not going to brainwash my children. I’m not going to fight my son if he doesn’t want to hunt, and I’m not going to flip out if my daughter ends up being a tomboy. They can be whatever they wanna be.
So for the record, if that should happen, I will still love my children. I will love them no matter what. But you can bet your ass that I’m going to try like hell to raise manly little men and proper young ladies. 😉