Thursday, July 25, 2013

Word of the day: tact

Tact: (n) acute sensitivity to what is proper and appropriate in dealing with others, including the ability to speak or act without offending.

My kids are a lot of things. They are smart, funny, mischievous, self-conscious, helpful, whiny, energetic, sassy, boisterous, creative, absurd, and pretty much any other adjective you can use to describe a human creature. I try really hard not to be one of THOSE MOMS who are completely blind to the faults of her children because god knows they have plenty of them, most of which they probably inherited from me.

Recently the parent of one of the kids that my youngest son D and daughter M play with called D out on some behavior of his that they found troubling. I was unaware of this incident until D asked to go to the child's house tonight, and then I guess he remembered the parent's words of admonition because he started crying and ran in his room to hide under his blanket. M informed me that one of the child's parents told my son that he was obnoxiously loud and that they were angry every time he came over to play.

You know that phrase, "I saw red"? Yes. That. I saw red, and an awful lot of it.

I know my son is loud. Astonishingly loud. Sometimes my husband and I just look at each other with glazed-over eyes and marvel at the volume D is able to manufacture out of his little forty-five pound body. Of course, birds are super loud too and they weigh like three ounces, but they sing pretty little ditties and have nothing else in common with my son besides being loud and running kinda funny and so I probably shouldn't even include this line in my blog post but I'm going to anyways because I really like birds.

The one thing this critical parent did not know about D is that he's hard of hearing in one of his ears, and because of this he is exceedingly loud and doesn't quite pronounce his words like most other seven-year-olds. It's not a huge deal and it doesn't require any sort of medical intervention, but he doesn't even realize he's being loud. He can't help it. To pick on his little self for it is, in my opinion, abominable.

I generally don't like to say anything ugly about people on my blog but I will go right ahead and volunteer some info tonight about this parent. They have, on more than one occasion, sent their child up to my house to play only to leave their house and not tell me they were leaving or when they would be back, and the only way I found out was when I tried to send said child home and was told they couldn't go home because no one was there. I didn't even have a phone number at which to contact the parents if something bad had happened. The third time this occurred, it was after my kids' bedtime and I couldn't send the other child home so I did what any rational person would do and gave the child a nice cup of coffee and a candy bar as a thank you to the parents for leaving the child at my house without telling me they were going out for the evening. I'm hoping bedtime was fun for them that night after they returned home from their galavanting to receive a child who was geeked out of their mind on caffeine and sugar and was ready for anything but sleep.

I joked on the Facebooks tonight that I didn't confront the parent because I don't have bail money, but I was only half kidding. I'm not a violent person AT ALL but the mama bear-ness that jumps out of me when I remember D's embarrassment and tears and genuine confusion over being told off by this parent is frightening. I have instead opted not to let my kiddos venture back to their house (although the child is still more than welcome at mine) and will instead hope and pray that D will be surrounded by parents who understand that sometimes, kids are loud. Sometimes they are obnoxious. Sometimes they hug you and lean in for a snuggle and whisper in your ear, "Can you smell that?" because they just let one rip and can't wait for you to inhale the fumes. Sometimes, you want to sell them to a band of gypsies. But you don't. You just grin and bear it and love them for who they are and occasionally hide in your closet with a glass of vodka and a package of cookies and some super hysterical tears whose cause may be mirth or exhaustion or anxiety or any combination of the three.

That was a long post. Sorry for the rant, but I've been fairly blog-silent as of late and thought if I had the motivation to write, I may as well write. I bid you all adieu, and thank you for reading. #vodka


  1. Holla!
    Goin through the most major "momma bear" moment of my life right now,'s more akin to an iron curtain reflex.
    I'm disgusted with this stranger I haven't even met. Because I know many of her parental style dopplegangers... Idiots!
    And good on you, Carri. Blog it out, girl ;)

    1. I hope your momma bear moment goes away...or rather, I hope the cause of your momma bear moment goes away. It is no feeling this way, especially knowing that we can't fight every battle for our kids and knowing there are people out there who don't love our little ones like we do. Sigh. Being a parent is hard.