Disclaimer:  The following may upset a few folks that may read my blog.  I hope it does not but I’m sure someone’s toes will ache a bit.  Also, while I denote that the following applies to children, I also understand that A) Some kids have disabilities that can make them hard to manage.  B) There are kids out there that are exemplary in character and may not fit into this post at all.

I will start with where this all begins.  I have been trying to be good with my meal portions and sugar levels, so that I get my health back on the straight and narrow.  I wanted something different for dinner tonight.  I couldn’t figure out what specifically I wanted.  I decided that I would go to Golden Corral.  This way I could choose from a variety of things in one stop.

I arrived at Golden Corral just behind an Indian family… Three adult women and five kids of various ages.   This is not a racial issue.  You will understand why I mention the nationality in a moment.  They were in line ahead of me.  It took over 5 minutes for the attendant to get their drinks because the kids were romping around and not paying attention.  I was by myself and in no hurry, so I waited patiently.  I heard one of the kids say to one of the women “Your Mom is here.” as she pointed toward the doors.  I looked towards the door.  Four more women and several more children of similar dress and heritage came in.

Normally, I would step aside and let these families join up together.  Before I could do so, the eldest of the women that just came in spouted something loudly in her native tongue to the women getting checked out at the front of the line.  I don’t speak their language, but it was clear that it was about me.  The tone and character of what was said, as well as, the giggling glances I got from a couple of the kids confirmed that.  It was probably something like “If this idiot would get out of our way we could all go through together.”… Maybe even something a little more colorful.

I stepped a side and said “Would you like to join the rest of your group?”  The oldest of the children thanked me in English.  It wouldn’t have mattered if I had stepped aside or not because by this time all ten children had now pushed passed me.  Only the four adults and one child who thanked me remained behind me.  I was a bit irked that the women who commented couldn’t just say “Excuse me, we are with them.”  I let it go and waited until I could get my drink and sit down.  This is where my actual tantrum starts… Here we go:

I was brought up in a very strict home.  I regretted this at times.  As I grew older, I learned why I was taught the things I was taught.

First, There was no running or carrying on in Church… or anywhere in public, for that matter.  If you sat with your friends and got out of hand, you got separated without pause.  It was then made clear, after Church, what you did and should not do again.  It was almost sacrilege to get out of your seat for any reason if you weren’t participating in the service.  You went to the bathroom before or after.  If you went during the service, you had best be sick and you were to remain reverent to where you were  and those around you.

You knew what punishment was coming if you got caught outside the boundaries of Mom and Dad’s rules.  I didn’t get paddled very often as a child.  Paddling was a perfectly acceptable punishment.  It didn’t matter where you were either.  I didn’t get paddled often because there were precursors/warnings that told me Mom/Dad, especially Mom, weren’t happy.  She had this Vulcan Death Grip that she did on either your triceps or your knee.  You mostly got it in your knee because that was usually down out of sight.  When she went for the knee… You stopped whatever you were doing real quick because that pinch hurt.

As far as paddling goes, I say it was acceptable.  I will clarify that that didn’t mean I got beat until I was bruised and couldn’t walk.  You either got the paddle or the belt.  It was only ever across the large of the posterior.  That being said… Paddling was not only acceptable at home.  If you were at school, grandma/grandpa’s house, Church or anywhere else for that matter, and you got out of hand, those folks were welcome to paddle you as well.  You could count on getting it again when you got home.  Like I said, My folks made this very clear, so I didn’t get paddled very often.

Time-outs or getting sent to your room were not used as punishment by my folks.  If you did get sent to your room, you had a tablet (AKA Good ole fashioned paper) and a pencil.  You wrote what you did wrong until you apologized and/or were told you were done.  There were no TVs, no video games, no phone, no stereo and you were checked on regularly.  I shook my fist at my Dad once… That was a lesson quickly learned and learned well.

The other thing I was taught as a child was “NO”.  “No” was “No”.  I was taught not to fight it because once a “No” was given, you were done.  There was no wishy-washiness from my folks.  There was no going from one parent to the other parent after being denied something.  My folks spent time together.  If Mom said “No”, I could be sure Dad would say the same.  Today, so many parents have to work to make ends meet that, in my opinion, it is much easier for kids to sandbag their folks and get away with it.

I was also taught that when you went somewhere that people got in line for something, you waited your turn.  It didn’t matter if it was an amusement park, the grocery store, a buffet, a concert or whatever.  You took your turn when it was your time.  At buffets or restaurants, you didn’t reach in front of someone to get what you wanted.  You waited.

These kids tonight were running around the restaurant, cutting in front of people in line, taking food by reaching in front of someone and just generally being rude to other customers and employees.  Had I done that, I would have been punished when we got to the car, if not before.  Sometimes it drives me crazy to see kids running, uncontrolled, bumping into people, while their parents are standing right there.  I often used to think to myself “Wow… This kid isn’t listening.” or “This kid is really bad.”  I see their parents do the same thing and say to myself  “Oh. Now THAT all makes sense.”

I know that kids will be kids.  You have to expect some amount of this stuff.  I think we’ve become so thin skinned and so worried about causing kids to have complexes, that we forget… There has to be boundaries and rules.  Without these things, societies crumble.  I often wonder if that’s why we see the shootings and general mayhem in schools and in public these days.  In our efforts not to offend or damage someone’s personality, we have made a society of intolerant individuals, who don’t know how to handle themselves when the going gets rough.

I also know that there are great kids out there.  I know many.  I try to complement them when I see them going in the right direction.  I wish I had my own children, but that wasn’t in the plan for me.  Watching my friend’s families, I think I’ve missed out on a great part of life.   I guess that’s why I watch my friend’s children growing up.  I see where they came from and where they are headed.  I smile when they achieve accomplishments.

I wonder to myself “How can a parent not take interest in their kid’s lives?”  I understand we’re all busy these days.  Maybe we should make ourselves less concerned with work and our own comings and goings and be more involved in shaping the young saplings we planted that will become our future society.

That’s my two cents.  I hope no one’s toes got stepped on.

~Cappy