I do not have children....BUT, I USED TO BE ONE!
I do not have any children
If you are childless and are planning a move, move to a place without children. Mind you, I do not have kids, but I use to be one, and I certainly know what it took to be Mr. Smith’s child and I tell you, it certainly was not easy. At least at times.
My parents were just that: PARENTS. REAL parents who took the time to raise their children. They took the time to raise their children while facing many sacrifices. I certainly applauded them for their dedication as well as discipline.
While growing up, my parents seem to raise us with little effort. Well, it appeared effortless until they had to discipline us and remind us who was boss. Nevertheless, they did a GREAT job!
I live in a supposedly controlled community. The association is suppose to regulate or manage mine and some other 5000 plus properties. However, what they are unable to do, is watch other people’s kids. I call them Bay-Bay’s kids who run amuck 24 hours a day 7 days a week, destroying people’s property. And what makes matters worse, the parents do not even care. One may argue and say that the parents do not know, then I would ask, "Why? Why don’t they know?
Here’s my gripe
I went outside this morning to retrieve the morning paper and you know what one of those bad rascals has done? Yep, they broke one of my security lights! Not the wireless cheap ones, but one of the electric lights that will take some time to be replaced.
Lawd!
Those Bay-Bay kids are destructive and this is not the first time they have taken it upon themselves to alter my property. Last year, one of those scoundrels purposely kicked one of my fake squirrels off the wooden frame around my tree. At first, I thought my spouse had removed it thinking that it was too girlish or something. As I prepared to give my spouse the third degree and compose him to receive 5 hours of questioning under the hot lava lamps, I discovered he was innocent. I suppose it was obvious that it was not the Tim Allen-wannabe who walked around the house as well as slept in an empty tool belt.
It was a short investigation when I looked at the wooden frame that once housed my friend the squirrel, as his little, insy-winsy tinny tiny squirrelly foot was intact. So no, it was not the home improvement person.
Last year in June, Home Improvement guy and me spent many laborious hours replacing and redecorating our white stones on the West Side of our home. What did the little scoundrels do? Yep, they found pleasure in removing a few rocks at a time and placing them in a location that was suitable for them! My only question is where were those little snots when I needed them last June.
I do not have kids, but I use to be one. My parents would have slapped me to sleep if I even THOUGHT about touching someone’s property. And if I ever THOUGHT about removing someone’s property, they would have called the police on me only AFTER I endured 6 weeks of Mr. Smith's torture.
One day, I was only a mile from my home, when I noticed these scoundrels standing in this man’s yard, holding one of the man’s rocks. I rolled down my window and told the Bay-Bay kid to put it down. You know what he did? Yep, he ignored me.
Yesterday, when I was leaving my home, I noticed a very large bolder-like red rock sitting displaced. It was just sitting there away from the other rocks. Who did that? I am certain that the owner did not decorate his landscape that way. Who did it? Do you suppose that particular rock decided to step away from the rest, a Black-rock of the other rocks? Hmmm, perhaps this rock was a rebel of rocks. I’m not sure.
I have politely asked the scoundrels behind me, time and time again - lawd - I am so tired of asking them to stay off the fence as I paid more then $200 to repair it. Do they listen? Please, I would have a better chance being adopted by Donald Trump.
I do not have kids, but I use to be one. When we climbed up on the fence, my dad would beat us down as if we stole something. Now, I do not condone beatings, but I DO condone discipline.
I recall a friend of mine, Teresa. Some years ago, I was at her home and her child performed an act that was not to Teresa’s liking. Teresa informed the child that she would be spanked. The child was unlike me when I was a child – quietly shaking in my boots. No, not this child. She yelled, screamed and hollered BEFORE Teresa even laid a finger on her. I thought the child was just considering the thought of getting the beat down. Lawd! Anyway, the child’s roar was heard a million miles away and before you could say, "I was only kidding," the police was at the door.
Teresa stood her ground when the cop told her he would have to place her under arrest for child-abuse.
"You can put me in handcuffs now, or you can put me in handcuffs later, said Teresa. "But she will be spanked."
"Ma’am," said a posed cop in a cop-like stance and voice. "I can not stand here and allow you to spank this child."
"Well, then you can leave and then I’ll spank her, but she will be punished."
"Ma’am, I can not allow you to do that."
"Well, then you take her."
The police officer vacated the property without having to labor over paperwork.
Now mind you, I’m not saying that every parent should go around beating the stuffing out of their children. No. At least not to the point that the white meat shows, but I do believe strict discipline is always in order. Moreover, I honestly feel that parents are not able to be their child’s friends, as it just does not work.
When I was a youngster, we had chores from sun up till sun down, or when Mr. Smith went to work – which was often. Nonetheless, the second warden, Mrs. Smith was ALWAYS on duty. She was strict, but allowed us to have our freedom (from time to time).
While the history books state that the emancipation proclamation was signed in 1863, we were in dispute as my parents did not recognize it as law. We were not free! We had chores on top of chores = chores-galore! Lawd, it seemed to never end; just endless.
We were rich! Yep, richer than most as we had 4 dishwashers, 7 remote controls and in-home housekeepers 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. You see, my parents thought if we were busy working around the house, then there was less time for us to get involved in any mischief.
One of the most memorable moments, was when my Mr. Smith did a roll call: "Lynn, Cymmne, Greg, Sean…" Once all of the seven crumb snatchers answered, Mr. Smith was able to account for all of his little progenies and knew who he would be calling to do this and/or that.
Another one of Mr. Smith’s stunts: He would call out, "Lynn, go and tell Cymmne to come here." If memory serves me correctly, Lynn was outside with Cymmne!
Last Smitty stunt: Mr. Smith would be standing near the sink, which was only a foot or less from the refrigerator. "Ranell, give me a glass of ice water."
When Mr. Smith was on late night duty, he would make sure that the kitchen sink was empty. If not, then someone would be wakened from a deep sleep.
The tile floor in the kitchen was always mopped. Throughout the house, the bare wooden floors were always mopped AND waxed. The furniture was always dusted and the windows were so clean that they appeared as if the glass was not even there. All of the beds were made daily and the bathroom spotless. The worse part of it all, was waking up at dawn to pickup paper on the front and back lawns.
The worst and BEST part of it all, my parents did it out of love - teaching us respect and responsibility.
I do not have kids, but I use to be one. Some years ago, my brother was arrested for hitting his child. At the time, my brother worked for a juvenile detention center. My brother was also a detainee in the same detention center as a youth and was doing his best to keep his child from becoming a number-bearer.
I applaud my brother for doing whatever it took to be heard. He is a parent who has a job to do. If not, then the State can have him.
I do not have kids, but I use to be one. I have witnessed kids talking back to not only their elders, but to their parents! Please, if I even THOUGHT about attempting such an act, my parents would have skinned me alive.
I do not condone beatings however I do condone strict discipline. I have seen kids run up and down the aisles in grocery stores, while the parents do nothing but wish they were childless. I watch in sadness as the parents try to act as though they are calm, but I know differently. Instead, of watching excessive gray hairs extend from the parents’ head, I perform an act that is unlawful but permissible by the tired parent. Yep, you guessed it! I trip those kids for their parents as I feel it’s the least I can do. The parents will thank me later.
Once while in Wal-Mart, I noticed this young mother with an over-sized child in her shopping cart. The woman seemed to be in a rush as she darted out from one of the aisles in such speed, that I could have sworn I seen smoke burning on the wheels.
"Just wait till we get to the car," I heard her calmly say. "Just wait till we get to the car."
Moments later, I was in the checkout line and I noticed a very similar woman. This woman had on the same attire as the one with the child in the cart, but her equipoise was totally different. Here, I seen a very calm mother pushing her child in the store. I do not recall the expression of the child, but mommy seemed very pleased.
I do not condone Charles Martin’s actions, but I think I understand. I honestly believe there is more to the story then just some kid "walking on this man’s lawn." I believe Mr. Martin was just fed up with the scoundrels who rendered stress to a hobby that he once enjoyed. I believe that he enjoyed working on his lawn and was probably a favorite pastime. However, I believe he was just so annoyed by the destructive acts of the rascals in his neighborhood, that one day he just loaded his gun. The story reports that Mr. Martin called the police and waited for them to arrive and he admitted his crime. He sounds peaceful to me; a caring and observant property owner’s dream neighbor. I wish that he had not taken this kid's life, as well as taken the law into his own hands. In contrast, I can only imagine that he was at wits end and that the law had not worked for him in the past. At least that is my experience, anyway.
(My heart goes out to the family as well as to Mr. Martin.)
I do not condone people killing others.
I do not have kids, but I use to be one and I am certainly thankfully that my PARENTS taught me respect and responsibility.
Colorado's Cool Mom
©Keeba Smith
Hankered Writer and Feared Compressor
K Smith is a columnist for Black Denver Speaks, an author, and social issues commentator
Keeba018@yahoo.com
If you are childless and are planning a move, move to a place without children. Mind you, I do not have kids, but I use to be one, and I certainly know what it took to be Mr. Smith’s child and I tell you, it certainly was not easy. At least at times.
My parents were just that: PARENTS. REAL parents who took the time to raise their children. They took the time to raise their children while facing many sacrifices. I certainly applauded them for their dedication as well as discipline.
While growing up, my parents seem to raise us with little effort. Well, it appeared effortless until they had to discipline us and remind us who was boss. Nevertheless, they did a GREAT job!
I live in a supposedly controlled community. The association is suppose to regulate or manage mine and some other 5000 plus properties. However, what they are unable to do, is watch other people’s kids. I call them Bay-Bay’s kids who run amuck 24 hours a day 7 days a week, destroying people’s property. And what makes matters worse, the parents do not even care. One may argue and say that the parents do not know, then I would ask, "Why? Why don’t they know?
Here’s my gripe
I went outside this morning to retrieve the morning paper and you know what one of those bad rascals has done? Yep, they broke one of my security lights! Not the wireless cheap ones, but one of the electric lights that will take some time to be replaced.
Lawd!
Those Bay-Bay kids are destructive and this is not the first time they have taken it upon themselves to alter my property. Last year, one of those scoundrels purposely kicked one of my fake squirrels off the wooden frame around my tree. At first, I thought my spouse had removed it thinking that it was too girlish or something. As I prepared to give my spouse the third degree and compose him to receive 5 hours of questioning under the hot lava lamps, I discovered he was innocent. I suppose it was obvious that it was not the Tim Allen-wannabe who walked around the house as well as slept in an empty tool belt.
It was a short investigation when I looked at the wooden frame that once housed my friend the squirrel, as his little, insy-winsy tinny tiny squirrelly foot was intact. So no, it was not the home improvement person.
Last year in June, Home Improvement guy and me spent many laborious hours replacing and redecorating our white stones on the West Side of our home. What did the little scoundrels do? Yep, they found pleasure in removing a few rocks at a time and placing them in a location that was suitable for them! My only question is where were those little snots when I needed them last June.
I do not have kids, but I use to be one. My parents would have slapped me to sleep if I even THOUGHT about touching someone’s property. And if I ever THOUGHT about removing someone’s property, they would have called the police on me only AFTER I endured 6 weeks of Mr. Smith's torture.
One day, I was only a mile from my home, when I noticed these scoundrels standing in this man’s yard, holding one of the man’s rocks. I rolled down my window and told the Bay-Bay kid to put it down. You know what he did? Yep, he ignored me.
Yesterday, when I was leaving my home, I noticed a very large bolder-like red rock sitting displaced. It was just sitting there away from the other rocks. Who did that? I am certain that the owner did not decorate his landscape that way. Who did it? Do you suppose that particular rock decided to step away from the rest, a Black-rock of the other rocks? Hmmm, perhaps this rock was a rebel of rocks. I’m not sure.
I have politely asked the scoundrels behind me, time and time again - lawd - I am so tired of asking them to stay off the fence as I paid more then $200 to repair it. Do they listen? Please, I would have a better chance being adopted by Donald Trump.
I do not have kids, but I use to be one. When we climbed up on the fence, my dad would beat us down as if we stole something. Now, I do not condone beatings, but I DO condone discipline.
I recall a friend of mine, Teresa. Some years ago, I was at her home and her child performed an act that was not to Teresa’s liking. Teresa informed the child that she would be spanked. The child was unlike me when I was a child – quietly shaking in my boots. No, not this child. She yelled, screamed and hollered BEFORE Teresa even laid a finger on her. I thought the child was just considering the thought of getting the beat down. Lawd! Anyway, the child’s roar was heard a million miles away and before you could say, "I was only kidding," the police was at the door.
Teresa stood her ground when the cop told her he would have to place her under arrest for child-abuse.
"You can put me in handcuffs now, or you can put me in handcuffs later, said Teresa. "But she will be spanked."
"Ma’am," said a posed cop in a cop-like stance and voice. "I can not stand here and allow you to spank this child."
"Well, then you can leave and then I’ll spank her, but she will be punished."
"Ma’am, I can not allow you to do that."
"Well, then you take her."
The police officer vacated the property without having to labor over paperwork.
Now mind you, I’m not saying that every parent should go around beating the stuffing out of their children. No. At least not to the point that the white meat shows, but I do believe strict discipline is always in order. Moreover, I honestly feel that parents are not able to be their child’s friends, as it just does not work.
When I was a youngster, we had chores from sun up till sun down, or when Mr. Smith went to work – which was often. Nonetheless, the second warden, Mrs. Smith was ALWAYS on duty. She was strict, but allowed us to have our freedom (from time to time).
While the history books state that the emancipation proclamation was signed in 1863, we were in dispute as my parents did not recognize it as law. We were not free! We had chores on top of chores = chores-galore! Lawd, it seemed to never end; just endless.
We were rich! Yep, richer than most as we had 4 dishwashers, 7 remote controls and in-home housekeepers 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. You see, my parents thought if we were busy working around the house, then there was less time for us to get involved in any mischief.
One of the most memorable moments, was when my Mr. Smith did a roll call: "Lynn, Cymmne, Greg, Sean…" Once all of the seven crumb snatchers answered, Mr. Smith was able to account for all of his little progenies and knew who he would be calling to do this and/or that.
Another one of Mr. Smith’s stunts: He would call out, "Lynn, go and tell Cymmne to come here." If memory serves me correctly, Lynn was outside with Cymmne!
Last Smitty stunt: Mr. Smith would be standing near the sink, which was only a foot or less from the refrigerator. "Ranell, give me a glass of ice water."
When Mr. Smith was on late night duty, he would make sure that the kitchen sink was empty. If not, then someone would be wakened from a deep sleep.
The tile floor in the kitchen was always mopped. Throughout the house, the bare wooden floors were always mopped AND waxed. The furniture was always dusted and the windows were so clean that they appeared as if the glass was not even there. All of the beds were made daily and the bathroom spotless. The worse part of it all, was waking up at dawn to pickup paper on the front and back lawns.
The worst and BEST part of it all, my parents did it out of love - teaching us respect and responsibility.
I do not have kids, but I use to be one. Some years ago, my brother was arrested for hitting his child. At the time, my brother worked for a juvenile detention center. My brother was also a detainee in the same detention center as a youth and was doing his best to keep his child from becoming a number-bearer.
I applaud my brother for doing whatever it took to be heard. He is a parent who has a job to do. If not, then the State can have him.
I do not have kids, but I use to be one. I have witnessed kids talking back to not only their elders, but to their parents! Please, if I even THOUGHT about attempting such an act, my parents would have skinned me alive.
I do not condone beatings however I do condone strict discipline. I have seen kids run up and down the aisles in grocery stores, while the parents do nothing but wish they were childless. I watch in sadness as the parents try to act as though they are calm, but I know differently. Instead, of watching excessive gray hairs extend from the parents’ head, I perform an act that is unlawful but permissible by the tired parent. Yep, you guessed it! I trip those kids for their parents as I feel it’s the least I can do. The parents will thank me later.
Once while in Wal-Mart, I noticed this young mother with an over-sized child in her shopping cart. The woman seemed to be in a rush as she darted out from one of the aisles in such speed, that I could have sworn I seen smoke burning on the wheels.
"Just wait till we get to the car," I heard her calmly say. "Just wait till we get to the car."
Moments later, I was in the checkout line and I noticed a very similar woman. This woman had on the same attire as the one with the child in the cart, but her equipoise was totally different. Here, I seen a very calm mother pushing her child in the store. I do not recall the expression of the child, but mommy seemed very pleased.
I do not condone Charles Martin’s actions, but I think I understand. I honestly believe there is more to the story then just some kid "walking on this man’s lawn." I believe Mr. Martin was just fed up with the scoundrels who rendered stress to a hobby that he once enjoyed. I believe that he enjoyed working on his lawn and was probably a favorite pastime. However, I believe he was just so annoyed by the destructive acts of the rascals in his neighborhood, that one day he just loaded his gun. The story reports that Mr. Martin called the police and waited for them to arrive and he admitted his crime. He sounds peaceful to me; a caring and observant property owner’s dream neighbor. I wish that he had not taken this kid's life, as well as taken the law into his own hands. In contrast, I can only imagine that he was at wits end and that the law had not worked for him in the past. At least that is my experience, anyway.
(My heart goes out to the family as well as to Mr. Martin.)
I do not condone people killing others.
I do not have kids, but I use to be one and I am certainly thankfully that my PARENTS taught me respect and responsibility.
Colorado's Cool Mom
©Keeba Smith
Hankered Writer and Feared Compressor
K Smith is a columnist for Black Denver Speaks, an author, and social issues commentator
Keeba018@yahoo.com
posted by Keeba Smith | 12:55 PM
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