The Mother from Hell.
Mamacita says: Several years ago, back in the middle school, we had a student whose mother was referred to as “the mother from Hell,” and everyone in the building knew exactly who we were talking about whenever someone said it. She snooped through everything. She criticized the subject matter and placement of the posters on the walls. She liked to “inspect” the cafeteria. She constantly asked how other students (by name) were doing in a class, and became angry when none of us would divulge other people’s children’s grades to her. She rearranged furniture and wall art. She interfered, and infringed upon boundaries, and loved to call meetings conferences with her daughter’s teachers. Frequently. VERY frequently. For example, after every test, quiz, notebook evaluation, speech, or ‘question that went unanswered in a classroom’ issue.
She chaired all the meetings conferences. She would spread all of her poor humiliated daughter’s graded-and-returned work across the long table, and force us all to study it. Then she would pull out whatever grossly unfair score she was whining about that particular day, and start it around the table, insisting we all study it and compare it to all the previous work.
Then she would stand at the head of the table, put her hands on her hips, smile at us like a not-so-benevolent dictator, and say, “Now, I know you kids mean well.”
Yes, she called us ‘kids.’ Every time she gathered us together, she referred to us as “you kids.”
Wow, mom, can I have a raise in my allowance?
And then she would proceed to extoll the praises of the teachers in the school her daughter had attended ‘up there’ before the family moved ‘down here.’ I would really like to tour that school some day, now that I’ve finally stopped hating it, because frankly, I’ve never seen a perfect school before and I have some questions I’d like to ask those ‘excellent’ teachers, the main one of which is “How long did you kids up there celebrate after this family moved away?”
Because we kids down here had to put up with this bitch for four years: two daughters, grades six through eight.
Of course, the poor daughters had to put up with her for much longer; no wonder they opted for early graduation, out-of-state colleges, and never came back home afterwards.
Poor kids. Hers, not us.
Well, us too. But you know.
Make someone happy, Make just one someone happy, And you will be happy, too. . . .
Mamacita says: Whether or not you celebrate Christmas has nothing whatsoever to do with being Santa Claus for someone. Call it whatever you wish: just call it something, and go forth and do it. Letting your soul curl up into a ball of resentment because YOUR religion, or lack of such, doesn’t “do” Christmas is a waste of time, a waste of emotion, a waste of heart, a waste of zeal, and a waste of YOU.
“Charity” doesn’t mean “giving to the poor and needy;” it means LOVE, and love covers all bases. Using a belief system to rationalize your own personal whatevers is a cop-out, plain and simple. There are people out there who need you, and to walk on by because they said or did something that “offended” you is . . . okay, I’ll say it: it’s evil. Selfish and evil.
What do we live for, if it is not to make life less difficult for each other? — George Eliot
The three stages of man:
1. He believes in Santa Claus
2. He doesn’t believe in Santa Claus
3. He IS Santa Claus.
That struck me as being funny, and true. And also, even, a little bit sad, and I’m not sure why. Poignancy is always a combination of emotions, and knowing something wonderful is temporary makes us sad, even while we revel in it.
I am Santa Claus. And I do NOT want to ever let the people I love down, at Christmas or any other time. But I also realize that the people we love most have the most potential for hurting. And for being hurt. Any people who are emotionally involved have tremendous power over each other. I hope we all try to use that power only for good.
You know, like Superman. Superman used his powers for good. Unless he was under the influence of kryptonite, in which case he became a flying armageddon.
Let us never allow the influence of ‘something else’ to turn us into anything other than good.
“Something else” being possibly another person, or just, something else. “Under the influence” is “under the influence,” whatever outside ‘something else’ is influencing us.
You are Santa Claus for someone. Do not let them down.
And if you are a person who does not believe in Santa Claus, then, um, uh, hmmm. . . . . okay, I’ll say it. You are stupid. Grow up and become Santa Claus. Somewhere out there is a child who desperately needs your powers. It might be your own child, or it might be a stranger’s. What difference does it make what child it is? Get out there and make someone happy. Or, at least, happier. Make a difference. Ho ho ho.
I’ll go even farther: If you are the kind of person who gets all huffy and offended and indignant because someone dared to wish you well in a language not suited to your personal belief system, shame on you. You’re angry because someone DARED wish you well? How dare YOU!!!!! How dare you throw someone’s sincere good wishes back into his/her face!!!!!
Now, get out there and make someone happy. If you have no children, go borrow some.
Life is so fleeting; why waste any of it in offended huffiness? We should all be trying our best to add to life, not suck the wonder out of it.
Oh, and fair warning: if you don’t like the tone of this post, suck it up. It’s the first of many, this season, because easily offended people are one of my favorite targets.
They’re the whiny kid on the playground who is good for a show every time he/she doesn’t get his/her own way.
Is that you? I hope not. Such reactions are ugly in a child, but even uglier in an adult. But if it is, I’ll say it again: shame on you.
Santa is a symbol, a representation of a person who lives to help others. He’s a role model for us all.
Bring it on.
Mamacita Likes Southwest Airlines
Well, by now you all know me pretty well, and you know that I love kids. I love my kids, and I love your kids. I also love most of you, and because I love most people, I made sure my own kids knew how to behave in public so you would not be inconvenienced, and I fully expect YOUR kids to know how, too. And, I expect you to make damn sure your kids DO behave in public. That’s our job as parents. (Note: I am not speaking about special cases, so don’t put “intentions” in this post.) (Don’t DARE make that assumption about me, in fact.)
So anywayS <—purposeful hilljack error– I bet you expected me to say something about the stupid whiny entitled poor beseiged mother and her obnoxious screaming brat sweet, typical little boy who were thrown off a Southwest flight.
I think Southwest did the right thing. Shhh, can you hear the universe applauding?
I flew Southwest Airlines a few weeks ago, and loved every minute of that flight!
The flight attendants sang to us, and told jokes almost all the way there and back. The pilots even joked with us via the loudspeaker. It was the most pleasant flight I’ve ever experienced. Heck, it was almost like being on the Tonight Show. It was a riot. It was like being in a comedy club. I LOVED IT!
A group of strangers can bond quickly when the personality combinations click, and I’ve never had such a good time with friends-who-pass-in-the-night!
On the return trip, there was a restless child, but I wouldn’t call him undisciplined; he was just disoriented, hungry, and exhausted. He attempted to melt down as we were waiting to take off, but a “look” from his mother apparently reminded him of the inevitable consequences of melting down in public, and he reigned himself in. His very prepared mother gave him gum during takeoff, which was apparently quite a treat, and when she held out her hand for it when the ascent was over, he obeyed her at once and gave her the gum. Once in a while he would get a little loud, and she would say, “Now, what are the airplane rules, Jared?” And he would tell her. “Sit in my seat, don’t be loud, obey the airplane people as well as Mommy, remember that I am a guest, and make Mommy proud.” It was obvious that he’d been well taught, and it was also obvious that this kid knew and understood consequences. Every time he recited the “rules,” the other passengers would applaud him. The only thing missing was an obnoxious kid across the aisle who would have to watch this sweet kid get rewarded big time while going without, himself. I do love praising and rewarding good kids in front of bad kids.
His mother had brought a few books, a little cd player, some crayons, and a coloring book for him, but all he really wanted were his crayons and coloring book, and an occasional bite of cookie. He had a water bottle, too. He did have to go to the bathroom a lot, but he was quiet about it, and since his mother had requested seats right beside the restroom, he could go by himself – it was about three steps from his seat and she could see him every second. We all appreciated her asking for those seats; she knew he had to “go” frequently, and had planned her trip accordingly. For a three-year-old, he was one awesome little kid.
It’s all in the planning ahead. It’s also all in the requiring proper behavior from everyone of any age wherever that person might be – up in the sky or down on the ground.
The flight attendants were crazy about this little boy, and spent a lot of time talking to him. His good manners were very attractive. He told us that ‘if I behave myself, I’ll get a reward when we get off the plane!”
I salute Southwest for being so kind to this little boy and his mother; they were traveling alone, and from the items in her bag, I don’t think she had much money to spare. No matter – her son had been taught to appreciate what he got. The attendants brought him an apple and a banana, and some pudding cups. He munched cookies and drank water, colored, walked back and forth to the bathroom, and talked a blue streak – but not loudly – to everyone who said “hello there” to him. Delightful. After about an hour and a half, he fell asleep and didn’t wake up until we were getting ready to descend. One more bathroom trek, and he was again belted in and given gum. The sensation frightened him a little, but he leaned his head against his mother’s arm, chewed his gum frantically, and maintained his lovely behavior. As soon as they got off the plane, they headed for the McDonald’s in the food court – it was apparently the “reward for good behavior” he’d been promised. He was ecstatic about it.
I love Southwest. I love their policies.
Fat people have to buy two tickets, and rightfully so. All airlines should require that. It’s awful to be stuck in a seat beside a fat person whose ass is tresspassing on the seat YOU paid for, and who puts the armrest up because there’s no place for it because he/she is taking up all of his/her paid-for space as well as yours and the guy’s on his/her other side. Unfair, unfair, unfair. With Southwest, every passenger has to pay for all seats he/she is sitting on. To which I say, AMEN.
On my first flight, there was a big group of drunks who had apparently begun partying early so they wouldn’t have to start fresh in Vegas. They protested indignantly when told they would NOT be served more liquor on their flight; the pilot came out and made this very clear. We all applauded his speech, which made the drunks angrier, but at least they were smart enough to know when they were outnumbered. Seriously, I think this group of passengers would have cheerfully thrown any obnoxious people out the emergency doors and called it community service. Which it would have been.
I could not help comparing my Southwest experience with the articles about the child whose behavior was so obnoxious that he and his mother were kicked off the plane. Bloggers are divided, of course; and even someone like me checked out the details before going public with an opinion.
And here it is: Bravo, Southwest.
And shame on the mother for daring to be indignant at Southwest.
As a passenger, I appreciate considerate, well-behaved people, and I fully expect everyone on an airplane to be so. Those who are not, have no business inflicting themselves on others up in the sky where there is no escape from it. I’ve experienced obnoxious entitled old people, too; in fact, I’d rather sit by a loud child than a loud adult. I also had a memorable flight once beside an old woman who was so certain we would crash that she could not control her crying and her constant grabbing at me. She also puked her way through about seven bags. Lovely.
My point? Behave yourself or get off the plane. The little boy on my flight was three years old, and behaved so beautifully that we all wanted to take him home and keep him forever. If a three-year-old can do it, anyone can.
Infants and others who truly cannnot control themselves are, of course, an exception. Anyone who is old enough and able to understand how nice people act, however, needs to toe the line in public.
If you believe that your children should be allowed to express themselves and do whatever they want in public, and if you have to lug along the contents of a moderately-sized WalMart in a bag to bribe your kids into the semblance of obedience, I’m sorry for you. I’m also sorry for your kids; they’re going to get some harsh surprises when they’re on their own; if, indeed, they ever are.
Heck, I’ve got thirty-five-year-old college students whose mommies are still hovering over them. Pathetic.
Of course, if that’s your GOAL for your kid, then by all means keep on hovering now.
But I bet a poll of the planet would reveal that the vast majority are happy with Southwest’s decision to honor the majority of the passengers rather than cater to one inept mother and her socially lacking child.
Well-behaved children are the most wonderful, beautiful things in the universe. Children who are not, are the opposite of wonderful and beautiful. Parents who do not require proper behavior in public from themselves and from their children are ____________________ well, you fill in the blank yourselves, why dontcha. There are many synonyms for “assholes” in any Dollar Tree thesaurus.
Bring it on.
