I was raised by the saying, “BE YOURSELF”, I don’t understand what is so wrong with that?
Live your life for you, not for the Jones’. Lead by example, do unto others and have integrity. And if your sister keeps beating you up, don’t fret, you’ll soon be big enough to kick her ass. Oops…different blog.
It’s not ok that your five-year old daughters “dream” is become an exotic dancer. A story I was told over the weekend. I don’t have a daughter. I would be that Mom who kept her daughter chained to her bed for fear of being brainwashed by the scantily clad wearing kids that I see prancing around half naked because that’s what Paris Hilton and other Hollywood-esque reality-based tarts thinks is “Hot”.
I want to punch my television, computer and newspaper in the junk every time I see or hear about little toddler girls competing in beauty pageants. I was watching a program the other day and I saw a blip about how a little girl (age SIX) was making demands on her parents because her competition was ‘cuter’. This child was overweight and had more makeup on her little face than most women can afford in a year.
Other little girls in the room were barking orders as well as they pouted in their expensive dresses and unruly 80’s inspired teased hair while the Mom’s ran around frantically convincing themselves that this is a life altering competition!
The mom tap-danced around the little she-devils demands and pleaded with her daughter to not cry because she was going to run her mascara! AUFKM!? If I had any powers at that moment, it would have been to teleport to that specific time with baby wipes in tow to wipe that shit off the little girls face and hand the mother a beating with my “get a clue” bat.
Hey lady! How about you quit living your failed dream of being a princess through your daughter who doesn’t stand a chance of being normal because you’ve enabled her to submerge herself in the idea that FAKE is healthy.
**beating head with remote**
I quickly changed the channel and started festering over the expectation that young girls have to live up to now. Where dressing like a tart, wearing 14 pounds of makeup and letting their almost ta-ta’s hang out is socially acceptable.
It’s not just girls; it’s boys as well regarding clothes and parental pressure.
“Pants on the ground, pants on the ground, looking like a fool with your pants on the ground…”
It’s echoing through my damn head as I type this. The day my son decides that his ass doesn’t need to be covered is the day you will find me restraining to slap the stupid out of him.
Being a ‘Football Mom’, I’ve seen the dad’s first hand, that publicly humiliate their son’s because they didn’t perform to “dad’s expectations”. Really Dad? So because you failed as a football star you decided to shove your dream down your kids throat?
There is also the ‘sponge’ factor. Kids pick up on anything you say. Anything they hear, anything that sounds or looks funny.
When my son was four we were walking through the mall and there was a young woman (late teens or early twenties) sitting on one of the benches.
“HELLZ YEAH, SHE’S HOT!” came flying out of his mouth.
I’m pretty sure my head spun the entire 180 degrees without my body following as I stopped dead in my tracks and said, “WHAT did you just say? WHERE did you hear that?” My son said his teenage uncles say it all the time. I knelt down to his level and said “I don’t EVER want to hear that from your mouth again. We do NOT talk about women like that. EVER!”
My son’s one-on-one time with shit head number one and two was immediately limited to supervised visitation.
And just this morning, I was standing outside watering my dead flowers when I observed two girls giggling and walking down the street. Again making an assumption on age, they couldn’t have been more than ten or twelve. Coming down the street in the opposite direction were two boys, younger than my son. As soon as the girls passed them, one of the boys turned to the other and said, “I would tap that”.
I cannot control other people’s kids. As much as I want to round them all up and give them a come to Jesus talk about respect and the wonders of Ivory soap.
I can only hope that I’m doing my son right by keeping him locked up in his room and never letting him out until he’s 40! Seriously.
I can’t control the girls out there whose parents have chosen their own life over their kids’ life. But I can dictate how my son treats those girls. I can control how he talks to girls and about girls and his elders as well as his friends.
I can also enforce a “skirts must cover your ass” and “I don’t want to see your training bra” dress code for the girls that enter my house.
You don’t have to agree with me on this. I really don’t care. I just think that it’s sad that there are parents out there who are showing their little girls that makeup and prizes are better than slumber parties and mud pies. And giving your son knuckle loves for fetching you a beer and encouraging dick-head behavior and distasteful comments doesn’t make you ‘Parent of the Year’.
There’s nothing wrong with competition. Sports, talent shows, music recitals – whatever. Have at it! It builds character.
But when your daughter is screaming at you because Sally is prettier; or your son is resentful because Chet can’t throw a football but gets a hug from his dad anyway for trying his best – it’s a problem.