Seen but Not Heard

This may seem really mean and I don’t really care. As the title suggests this article is about children, the title is of course based on the phrase “children should be seen and not heard”. I agree with this. If you are a parent and you don’t have the time, patience or love to teach your child not to be obnoxious or rude, you should at least be capable of accomplishing the lesson of silence. Silence is after all golden, even if you have to use the duct tape.

Why do I write this considering I have no children? Well, I leave the house; I am out and about in society and since it is deemed appropriate by our culture to allow children out in the general public, I have to deal with children, not in a personal or social way, just a public manner, which is minimal. We do have to breathe the same air and if the child in question is being disruptive, chances are, it is affecting me. Whether the child opened something in a store or knocked something over and the product is now all over the floor and now that isle or section of the store is closed until the overworked, underpaid employees deem it worth their time to go over and clean it up; or if I’m done shopping and the young human is in line with its creator in front of me and that young human is screaming at the top of its lungs and its owner or creator is doing nothing to silence it or to get out of line to be courteous to the other shoppers. This leaves me with the very unhappy choice of either moving to another line in order to escape the noise, or to stay and endure it. The child in this scenario in this day and age isn’t even “young”. By the way, this excuse of being “young” bothers me a lot. I was never in any point in my life allowed to misbehave so horribly in public. Being young has nothing to do with it; it’s the lack of discipline and care. The child is so ignored that it feels the need to get louder and wilder in order to be acknowledged by its parents. Negative attention is better than no attention at all in the eyes of a child, and then eventually the poor behavior becomes habit. This brings be back to the fact that some children who are disruptive in public aren’t “young”. I’ve seen twelve year-olds and up, throw fits like the ones I’ve described: just because the screams are replaced with whinny demands or screeching protests doesn’t make it less of a tantrum.

The point to all of this is for me to say that I think something isn’t working. The way children are being raised has failed for several generations now. It’s time to rethink the public standard and I am all for going back to “children should be seen and not heard”. As a parent you should be concerned with how your children behave in public, enough that you actually do something to correct your child when they are misbehaving or don’t take them out in public at all until they can behave.

  My Mama wasn’t allowed to go to a restaurant until she was three years old and it was a guarantee she wouldn’t do anything that might ruin the meal. How many three year olds can you name off the top of your head that can sit through a proper dinner meal without getting “bored”? My grandfather was very old fashioned and stuck to the “children should be seen and not heard” rule to the letter. It worked then, so there is no reason for it not to work now; and as for “letting the kids be kids” rubbish, let me tell you, a child can have plenty of fun without screaming just because they like the way their voice echoes in the public bathrooms at Disneyland; and as I have previously stated, a child won’t even get loud if it’s being cared for by its parent. A well cared for child is a happy child; a happy child is a quiet child.

Disney Therapy

Me at the White Rabbit's House
Disneyland Resort-California

If you’re feeling really up tight, you just need a Disney break. If you live near a Disneyland resort, I strongly recommend getting an annual pass. If you don’t live near a resort, then don’t be bashful and dig up some old Disney videos and watch them. Smile, laugh, and just have fun with wonderful Disney.

  I’m going to be going away, without any access to a computer, so I’ll be back by Sunday, I think, but I may not be in the mood to post. See you by next Monday for sure! Lots of love.

Daycare

Mike’s ears were ringing as he left the daycare where he worked. As a teen aged boy, he had gone to his share of rock concerts, and he’d thought the loud music was really bad, but it was nothing compared to the screams of the five to twelve year-olds at the center. The noise those little monkeys (as Mike called them when none of his co-workers were around) made was excruciating after half an hour, but staying for five hours like he had to was a new kind of hell.

  Then there was the fights, blood, pee, broken toys added to the mayhem. There was not one decent kid in the bunch. The new ones that started out okay always turned into one of the monkeys given enough time. It was as if the kids knew they were being abandoned by their parents and they were releasing all of their frustration on everything and everyone around them. Aaahh, the parents; they’re another case in and of themselves: rude, self-absorbed, inconsiderate monkeys in suits.


Monkeys, each and everyone, making more monkeys, then they all wonder why no one acts like a decent human being.

Disney Memories

I grew up watching Disney cartoons, and as a result if a Disney movie is playing somewhere, chances are I can recite the lines word-for-word until the very end of the movie. We were also big fans of the Disney Sing Along Songs videos. We still have them in a drawer somewhere. I still think the Disney songs are cool and I'm not ashamed of posting Disney clips on facebook and bursting into spontaneous recitations of Disney full length feature films.
I can't help but feel bad for younger generations, I keep an eye on what Disney comes out with, and a lot of their stuff isn't the caliber of fun that my generation got, do they even have sing Alongs anymore?

A Conversation Between Three Parents

Linda: How old are your children?
Jim: Thirty-five and thirty-three.
Martha: Nineteen, seventeen, and fifteen.
Linda: Ooh.
Martha: What?
Jim: Don’t worry, they’ll be gone soon.
M: Why should I worry?
J: Well, when my children were teenagers, my wife and I took every opportunity to be out of the house: golfing, fishing, hunting, women’s group for her and poker every Friday and Saturday night for me, and adult church supper every Sunday evening.
L: Yes, yes. I have a three year old and a five year old, so I know exactly what you mean by needing to get away.
J chuckling: I still remember all of those sleepless nights getting the baby to stop crying!
L: Tell me about it.
M: Well, that’s the deal with babies, they don’t understand how to wait; when they need something they need it now.
L: Yes, yes, but they’re so….needy.
J: That’s how they are, and it doesn’t ever stop. Even now my kids call me: “Benny broke his arm and I don’t think I can pay the bill.” Did you ever think of getting health insurance? He’s not my kid; it’s time you take responsibility.
M: Is Benny your…step-grandson?
J: No, he’s my grandson, why did you think-
L interrupting: Maybe they can’t afford insurance.
J: Oh they could if they thought ahead and saved.
There was a silence.
L: I can’t even fathom three teenagers.
M: It’s really not that bad-
J: Oh, you’re just more patient then the rest of us.
M: Perhaps.
L: I must say I’ve never seen three teens more well-behaved. How did you do that?
M: Love, care, coddling and being honest.
J scoffs.
L: Well, we all do that, but what’s your secret? What do you do to make them behave?
M: I don’t do anything. They learned basic manners when they were really young. Every once in awhile they need reminders, but we all do, don’t we?
M gives a laugh to break the tension.
J: How did you do that?
M: I was always right there reminding them. If I said “No” and they didn’t listen, there was always a consequence. I never let them get away with anything, so they grew up knowing that if they chose to cross a line they would get into trouble.
L: But that sounds so time-consuming.
J: And straining.
M: Sometimes that part of raising a child is hard, but I found most of it all a joy.
J grunts and walks off.
L as she walks away: Well, I have no idea how you can have all of that energy.
M to herself: You don’t care enough to make the effort. That’s too bad for you.

Driving

I recently received my driving permit (RED ALERT! Watch the roads!!) No I’m kidding…a little. I’m keeping most of my driving in abandoned parking lots, so you don't really have to worry about bumping into me...or me bumping into you, I guess would be more accurate.

So far I’ve managed to crash into six imaginary cars while backing out of parking spaces, which I was pretending was a crowded mall parking lot (rather than an empty college parking lot); and I’ve hit two more imaginary cars by forgetting to look before changing lanes. Just for laughs, I gave backing into a parking space a whirl, and I’m not even going to tell you what happened. All in all, I’m getting better, and I was unleashed upon a real road with real cars yesterday, and I didn’t freak out…not on the outside anyways.

My car of choice hasn’t sustained any damage, and I haven't given Mama (who has been my licensed driver in all of my driving adventures) whiplash. So all in all, I guess I haven’t done that badly.

"The Road Less Traveled"

Now, I read a lot….I know big shocker “A writer that reads a lot? Get out of here!” No really. (It’s kind of like being Irish and having a drinking problem; it goes without saying doesn’t it? If you’re Irish and you don’t have a drinking problem, then you can go ahead and mention it, otherwise, you don’t really have to say anything.) But, I do, I read a lot, and I love to read. It has become my pet project to read all of the books on Mama’s bookshelf, and, like me, she’s a writer, and thereby she’s a big reader too. So, I've set myself quite a big project.


I’ve begun to read a book called “The Road Less Traveled” written by M. Scott Peck., M.D. It’s a pretty heavy book and it makes me stop and think, and I love to think, so I’m thoroughly enjoying this book. The main reason behind me reading this book is so that I can read (and understand) the sequel “People of The Lie” also written by Scott Peck. The reason behind my desire to read the sequel, is that it just kind of jumped out at me. If you are a big reader then you know the feeling when you walk into a book store, and (after you’ve calmed yourself down from the excitement brought on by all these books!!) you start looking at some of the book titles, some books just jump out and scream “Read me! Read me! Put down that crappy novel you’re holding and PICK ME!!!” Well, that’s what “People of The Lie” kind of did for me, except this time I wasn’t in the books store, I was in my living room, and I wasn’t holding a crappy novel, or even reading one for that matter (I was reading “Doc Holiday, The Life, The Legend” by Gary L. Robert, which could be considered crappy for Robert’s inability to write a story in a smooth and flowing manner, I suppose) but I have decided to set that one aside for now, until such a time that Scott Peck’s writing can no longer hold my attention. (I’m ADD in case you haven’t been able to interpret that from my writing yet.)

Memories

I can recall when I was four and five years old, before going to sleep at night I would watch the ghosts glide across the walls in my bedroom. I wasn't frightened, I had always be able to see them.
My brother slept across the hall from me and the way our beds were positioned we could see through our doors and into the other's room. Even though we could not see each other, we would watch the ghosts go from his room to mine and mine to his.
Perhaps it was simply because of our child-like innocents that we weren't afraid of them, or maybe something, or someone told us that there was nothing to fear from them, that I do not recall.



I can also remember when I was in trouble, sometimes I would look beyond the parent who was lecturing me and see a shield of light that encircled the lecturer's body. I was not sure whether what I was seeing was really there, or whether I was just tricking my self into believing that there was something there, because I knew even at that age that I had a wild imagination, and it would get away from me sometimes. I did not find out until recently that what I was seeing was an aura. The electrical bubble that surrounds every one's body.



It amuses me that the longer that I live the more I find out about things I experienced years ago, I guess that it's all just apart of life.