I ask myself at least once a day how the hell I ended up here. Sure, I originally chose to move here for an amazing job opportunity, but I suppose I didn’t think I’d be here this long. But four years later, here I sit on my now slightly larger ass in the land that time has clearly forgotten.
As you might imagine, I stick out like a sore thumb – and it’s not because I’m an almost 6 foot half-Asian girl. I suppose it’s partially because I abandoned my penchant for all things feathers and sequins in about the first grade. Or maybe it’s because heavy make-up to me is mascara, blush, AND lip-gloss. Whatever the reason, my
paintspattered industrial-chic t-shirts and vintage pumas have afforded me nothing but weird looks and glances since I’ve moved here. And while I’m perfectly happy to hold up in a large, old house with a martini and my computer, I do feel some sense of responsibility to attempt to socialize my daughter. Therefore, on occasion, we do venture out into the world and enjoy the sunlight on our very pasty skin.
Our weekly Wednesday ritual includes a 25-minute drive to the town near us for a rather average mommy & me class. We sing a few songs, do some sign language, and socialize. Make that SHE socializes. I usually sit, sing, and smile. I used to crack a few jokes here and there, but feeling like a dejected comedian performing for a very sober crowd, I decided it was better (and probably safer) for me just to nod and smile.
After class is over, I attempt to make contact with the other species, but alas, I am generally left to my own devices, namely chasing around my child and eavesdropping. So, from what I can gather (I don’t understand Southernese too well), it seems as though the lovely kiddos (all under the age of ONE mind you) are being naughty. I listen as they describe what neo-toddlers love to do to piss off their parents – spit food out, keep pressing the tv power button- you know crap like that. And then from the mouth of one mother I hear this:
Well, she just spit her food right out at me – and she knew exactly what she was doing. So I just picked her up and popped her right on the butt. Her daddy said I was being mean, and she cried and cried, but she needed to be told that spitting food out is wrong.
Of course, all I heard was this:
Lalalalalalalalalala POPPED HER ON THE BUTT lalalalalalalalalalala
And seriously, her daughter is 9 months old, born 3 months early, and is literally the size of my daughter’s head. And then it happened. They all agreed. I pop him on the butt all the time. Sometimes they just need a butt popping. Nothing makes a point like a good pop on the butt.
Now come on people. Not only does it annoy me that they are using the word POP – like we’re talking about corn, pimples, or farts for crissakes, but are we really still popping or let's just say it SMACKING kids on the butts – especially really tiny infants?
I’m not a spanker – I vowed I never would be. I can honestly say I’ve never popped or bopped my daughter on any part of her body. I got my own fair share of bopping (of the hard, mean, and not-so-erotic kind) and I just felt as though I would never do it to my kids. We send her to the corner or her room. End of story.
But even with all the gumption I could muster, I couldn’t even say a damn thing. Mainly because it would be SO snarky that I would never be able to go back to
my stupid her lovely class. And she likes it – and I’m not going to let my crazy shit fuck her up just yet. I figure I’ll wait a few years before I lay that out on the table. So, I'll just have to save my Butts? Hell, we knock her in the back of the head with our shotgun while she's chained to her crib comment for some other time. Because I'm pretty sure, this won't be the last time I'll be hearing about Popping Butts or any other such ignorance, for that matter.
**Added: Just so you know, I would have put pictures of parents smacking their children in here, but in most cases, parents do that in private and don't take pictures, so this was the best I could do.