Intermission

I'll get back to my Jacob story soon, but right now, I'm kinda pissed and what good is a damn blog if I can't bitch about shit here?

And really? I'm probably the only one who reads me anymore anyway.

But if you do happen to stumble across this post, it may not make much sense because I'm writing from the hip in a snit so....you've been fairly warned.

Jacob had a field trip today. I HATE field trip day. Shit, I hate pretty much any school day where parents are invited to tag along because where some of their kids are little demons in size 1 sneakers, the parents, well, I guess it stands to reason those little devils had to learn it somewhere.

As you know Jacob attends private school so there's no bus so parents have to drive the kids to, well, everything. I could let him ride with someone else, but I'm not entirely comfortable with that especially since the last time I allowed it the mother held his lunch box hostage for three weeks and then excluded only MY KID from the huge birthday bash she threw a few weeks after that. The other "Christian" parents, well, they apparently have perfect children because after an afternoon with my kid, I start getting "the look".

I got "the look" again this morning while stomping through some wretched excuse for a nature trail while my excited fourth grader ran away from the pack to see a huge spider, pick up some cool acorns, and gather some trash. I got it again as his arm continued to shoot up to ask a question that never really was a question, but a story, and, OMG, how dare he try to share a story. I got it again when he put ten paces between himself and the girl in front of him, that girl, and stuck his fingers in his ears when I tried to reason with him.

To all these perfect parents, and I've encountered millions of them in the almost ten years we've lived with our son, I am subpar parent. They shake their heads at my supposed lack of discipline, they move away from us little by little, they shield their children from us with their arm and lead them away as if what my child, what WE, have is contagious or maybe I'll run over, the awful parent I am, and eat their child because, well, why did an animal like me have a child?

We were kicked out of Mother's Day Out because Jacob wasn't "capable of instruction" and "couldn't follow directions". He was two.

We were kicked out of Sunday School because Jacob was "too rough" and "made the head deacons a child cry". He was three.

We were not invited to one birthday party in preschool although the rest of the class was because "there wasn't enough space". He was four.

We were asked to change Gymboree classes because another mother "was scared of him". He was FOURTEEN MONTHS OLD.

Lather. Rinse. Repeat. All. His. Life.

You know what? I'm fucking sick of it.

Yes. My kid is weird. He talks a lot. He has TONS of exuberence over EVERYTHING he sees and you know what? What the hell is wrong with that?

Why is my kid getting the shit beat out of him on a weekly basis because he runs funny and can't play football? Why the fuck do we give a shit if all the boys can play football? All the football stars from my high school are now fat and living off welfare, the welfare my non-athletic husband is paying for with the 45% taxes he donates every paycheck.

Why am I a bad parent because my kid talks to your kid, oh exalted Christian school mother? Why are you not the bad parent because you drag your kid away with "the look"? My kid doesn't know a stranger. To him, everyone is his friend, well, until a few weeks ago when he learned to be mean to "that girl" thanks to your kid who taught him the meaning of ugly, stupid, and retard and who now thinks this is the way boys are supposed to act. But go on, keep giving me the look, your child is "cool" and has many friends so therefore you must be doing something right.

Also, maybe next time look behind you before you start calling my kid a retard to your giggly friend. I heard every word you said. Well, at least the English part. Maybe next time speak it all in Spanish because I know there was more I didn't catch, but the finger pointing is usually a pretty good give away. I'd bring up how it was YOUR kid burying himself in pebbles and rocks on the playground after lunch and that's pretty damn weird, but you know what, he's a kid. Kids are weird.

Every day for the past nine years I have been judged. I have lost "friends". I've been given advice from strangers. I've been pitied. I've been talked about. I've been shunned. I've cried. I've been mad. I've begged for help. I've wondered why? why? why? And you know what? Fuck it. I teach my kids right from wrong. I attempt to instill in them good values and the importance of being kind to everyone. They've heard a few cuss words and certainly know what it's like to be yelled at, but they are loved. And disciplined. And they learn from living this life that some people are just assholes. Even the saintly Christian ones.