blog entry

Scary Parenting!

Few things render me as helpless as a sick three year old. He’s sitting in his underwear eating Wheat Thins. Slowly. Glassy-eyed. It’s 1:00 a.m. He’ll get hyper in a few minutes when the fever medicine kicks in. For now he’s feverish and dazed. I’m not sure who the fools were that sent this child and his older brother home with me after they were born. No one asked to see my credentials when I was wheeled out the front door of the hospital, baby bundled in my arms in Los Angeles in June and October in Lansing, Michigan. Shouldn’t I have known the difference? L.A. is a tad warmer in the middle of summer. No matter. No one asked me for qualifications at either hospital and here we sit at the kitchen table- he thinking I know how to do more than read the back of the children’s Motrin box. No doubt you’ve heard the argument about an individual needing a license to catch a fish or something similar, but none to procreate. There’s some frightening truth to that. One of the most disturbing incidents I can think of had to do with a former tenant in our duplex in Rapid City, South Dakota. The manager- who is no longer a manager for obvious reasons- handed over the keys to a family of 5 to live in our 2 bedroom duplex without getting the first months rent or deposit. After a month, it was clear this family was not going to pay. We started the eviction process and to make a long, stressful and insane story short, after three months and $5,000, got them out. What disturbed me most about the entire process was that he had three little children who were living this nightmare. After several visits by the manager, I was told that the place was filthy. I was told that the manager was considering contacting Child Protective Services on his own- as a concerned citizen. When the family finally left, they ground raw meat and other unidentifiable foods into the carpet. They left broken up pieces of furniture in the front room. Cigarette burns and ashes decorated the bedroom carpets. The bathroom was filthy. The thought of children seeing this behavior and thinking this is how an adult is to conduct them selves makes me ill. And if you should go to Rapid City, I suggest you stay away from the International House of Pancakes. The former tenant is a cook there. ‘Nuff said. I started writing this at 1:00 a.m. and am finishing up at 11:30 a.m. I’m happy to say the kid is watching Noggin, playing with Legos and his fever is back under the century mark. I’m still convinced it’s a miracle we don’t mess up kids more than we do. Or perhaps I should say “I”. If my boys decide to skip college, at least they’ll have an impressive fund saved up for counseling. They may need it.