That Chick
| Those people? Did not turn out. |
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| Written by That Chick | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Tuesday, 08 April 2008 | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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In fact, the thing that really sucks about being a parent now? The other parents. Take last night, for example. My two children, who somehow ended up with grace and agility despite the genetic nightmare I thrust upon them, were testing for their blue belts in Taekwondo. Part of that testing? The ability to spar. As time has gone on I have grown accustomed to their sparring. I would be lying to say it doesn't bother me, but I've gotten used to and stopped wishing death upon and making verbal threats against the young boys who were beating the crap out of my kid. I just take an extra Lexapro before I get there and I'm fine. Last night? My son had to spar against a little girl. A little girl who apparently brought with her every person she's ever known, ever. And they were all sitting behind me on the hard, wooden bleachers. For some reason, the vast majority of the parents of the children who attend Taekwondo behave as though they were born and/or raised in a barn. Oddly, most of the kids are pretty nice. Which leads me to believe maybe the parents should get their asses in Taekwondo as well so they can learn honor, courtesy, self-control, and community. Or whatever the crap those kids yell before they bow to that guy. I'm not really paying attention usually.
My son gets into his stance. They see that he, obviously, is a boy and start shouting and no, I'm not kidding, they are shouting this at a Taekwondo match for a bunch of ten-year old children, "KICK HIM IN THE CROTCH ELOISE!" Did you get that? Because, for real. These grown, adult people were encouraging their little girl to RACK MY SON IN THE NUTSACK. I don't know what finishing school these people went to, but it was clearly not effective. Clearly. So, Eloise was trying, to no avail, to kick my son in his cubes. My son, to his credit, dodged her quite effectively. This, apparently, enraged the two hundred people and they begin to shout at the little child, "KICK HIM! PUNCH HIM IN HIS FACE! KNOCK HIS GLASSES OFF! KICK HIS BUTT ELOISE!" I was sitting right. in. front. of. them. And you know what I did? Nothing. I sat quietly and watched as Eloise kicked and hit my son. The crowd behind me got louder and louder and louder and finally they were screaming, just like that really weird instructor in the originial Karate Kid, "FINISH HIM! FINISH HIM!" About my son. My ten-year old son. My son did a fantastic, amazing, once in a lifetime spin-kick. Like something out of movie. Solidly knocking Eloise in the head. The two hundred people gasped, collectively. Eloise? Hit the mat. Hard. And I? Refrained from turning around and screaming in those people's faces: "BURN!!!!!!!!!! IN YOUR FACE! IN YOUR FACE! IN! YOUR! FACE!" And then shaking my fat ass in their face and doing a victory dance. Which I really, really wanted to do, by the way. Because self-control? That's just good parenting.
           
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There are so, so many things I enjoy about being a mother, especially now that my children are getting older. Long gone are the sleepless nights. My kids can feed themselves, walk by themselves, and are even learning to cook. Being a mother of twins, I didn't exactly look forward to them being older, but I do take it as a welcome respite from the land of bulky upper arm muscles (have YOU ever tried to carry two infants at once?) and formula stained shoulders and smelling vaguely like puke and formula and despair. 
Anyway, last night? The two hundred people who made up this child's entourage were very...enthusiastic. Also? They were complete douchewads. Complete douchewads who were also stupid and inappropriate and said things like, "Look at that kid in glasses! How weird!" Because, you know, glasses are SO unusual. 
Some days you just have to give in to your inner child.
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