I find myself at one of the playlands in our city and suddenly it strikes me…
I actually like to hear the sounds that I currently have around me. The pneumatics from the rides, e running of small feets and the happy screams and laughter that actually echoes in here.
I mean, if I was at home, this screaming and running would pretty much reduce me to a grouch at any given second, but here… here it makes me smile. My kids are happily climbing away at e huuuuge set that is here, I see them at tremendous speeds sliding down the slides and their shrill screams gets mixed in with the other childrens outbursts of purer joy at playing.
I can now see why sometimes older persons sits around playgrounds because it is a way of remembering your own past, the time when you had limitless energy and you could spend it recklessly, just because you would have the same abundancy of energy the next day.
For some odd reason I find I could actually go here just to see, hear and take part of the kids playing, although in a passive way. the same thought also brings with it another one, one that is a lot less pleasant. I am a man, and a man sitting in one of these places, without kids is almost sure to make the parent radar use a damn foghorn to send warningsignals. “That guy is a pervert and wants to take my kids”
To an extent, I think i would join in on that thought, beacuse what if that guy is sitting there have the same feeling of inner happiness at just watching the kids play with the same feeling of nostalgic joy that I now feel?
When did the world turn out this way? That we, as parents are afraid to let our kids out of sight on the playgrounds, with the absolute certainty that something bad will happen the second they are alone? It really is sad that it has come to this.
Well, I cant really speak for the rest of you, but, I will try to let my children play as much as they can, and if someone is watching them play, smiling the same way as I am now, I will try to remember
this day, while at the same time, keeping an eagle-eye out.
Well, the 10 work day paternity leave ends tomorrow morning, and it is with mixed feelings
that I go to work tomorrow. Mixed because I do like my work, I enjoy the coworkers and all
but still, I have this little bundle at home that is squeeking for its parents because its all it knows
how to do. What is its name? Well, we have settled for Emil, wich in my ears and eyes suits this
little thing because despite being only 2 weeks old, he still has a face and eyes twinkling with
mischief.
I am however, already starting to dread the fact that I will be having 2 sons, close of age, wich
will have a set of my genes in them. I was high and low when I was a kid, and from the looks of
things, so will David, and I seriously doubt that Emil will be any different, so, my guess is that
my hair will increase its natural bleaching strategy and push forward full. Probably hitting
warp speed by the time Emil reaches the two year mark.
Having kids is a little like getting a meaningful tattoo. You sometimes stop and wonder
and just look at it thinking, what the hell have I gotten myself into, and other times you
just forget its there. But let me tell you. It’s there to stay and no matter what you do, remember
that there are no refunds on either tattoos nor kids.
Oh no, it has happened. My son has, despite my best efforts developed a horrible taste in music.
For some odd reason he has started to like the Numa Numa song and Karamelldansen (featuring the Tokyo stormtrooper)… sheeeeeesh
The worst part of it all is that he pretty much demands that you kick in the repeat button on those songs
so hard that they never stop and its slowly, but surely driving me crazy. I have tried, with my best efforts
to raise him on various rock music, such as AC/DC, Alice Cooper, Dio, Metallica, Iron Maiden and then round
that off with classics such as the man in black himself, Mr Cash, and other such large legends, but alas,
it appears that his taste in music goes to the grotesque … and someone PLEASE help me. The kid is on the way
to ruin. I am pretty sure that I will have what I dread the most. A hip hoper son ….. AUGH the horror!
His mother aint exactly helpin … she just started to play “The Macarena” for David. Now I have 2 of them in the
same apartment!
Thats the most common sound right now here at home. For some reason my son
has decided that “no” is the equivalent of both the swedish word “nej” wich is no, and
pretty much anything that he doesnt want at the moment. And boy, that is frustrating.
He stands up, declares his noes, with no explanation whatsoever, and you know that he
can imply most things that he wants either audibly or visibly by pointing at it, but yet
he persists on indicating what he DOESNT want, and never any inkling of what he DOES want.
Life is hard when you are 2 years old I guess, when you have dense parents who cant
read your mind and refuses to let you climb on anything thats available to reach the
topmost shelf for no reason whatsoever then the fact that its there.
To make matters worse, David now finds himself at a loss. There is an invader in the house
and he is smaller then David! On top of that, he steals almost all attention from the parents
by simply screaming and farting.
I dont know how David thinks, because he doesnt have the words to express that currently and
I am guessing that its part of the problem. As a parent though, all you can do is show that
yes, there is another one that gets attention, but we still love you and we will hug you at
every turn we get.
Sometimes you tire of your offspring, of course, who doesn’t loose patience
at one point or another, but you do your best not to take it
out on the child. At least, thats what anyone that has a
clear cut conscience does. You see, just because one’s life is
hard, stressful and filled with adversity, there is no real
excuse to take things out on a poor, innocent child, no
matter what mess that child has managed to make, or
whatever that child did break.
When you physically hurt a child, is it a need for control, an
outlet for helplessness, or just plain mental problems? I
really can’t make a call on that because I am not a shrink like
Dr. Phil, neither am I a therapist in any other way that matters,
but I can, and do let people know that by being a parent I
can vouch for my own feelings in the matter at hand.
Every single day, there are children being physically abused
by adults and that to me, is unacceptable. If you see
someone violently shaking or hitting a child, even if it is an
open handed slap, would you react, and more importantly,
HOW would you react? I am not gonna sit here and tell you
that I would do this and that or else.. but I would do
SOMETHING at least. It is an obligation I have towards every
child out there, an obligation that every single sensible adult is bound to.
There is no excuse for inaction. I have heard of those that just shrugged and
thought “hey, its not my call”. IT IS YOUR CALL. You are observing it.
How would you feel if that same child, later that night died from one
to many blow to the head, and you realized that if you had spoken up
for that child, that little person would be alive, albeit a bit sad to be
separated from the parent because, lets face it, abused children still
loves their parents on one or another level, and leaving that parent
may in the beginning feel like a betrayal, but in the end, maybe you can
make the child understand that it is not his or her fault that their
parent is hitting them.
Now, just to share something. My girlfriend showed me this earlier tonight
and even though I am supposed to be one of the stereotype manly men
(I know I most definetly aren’t one) I got a little wet in the corner of my eye.
The song is named “Concrete angel” and the lyrics are below.
She walks to school with the lunch she packed
Nobody knows what she’s holding back
Wearing the same dress she wore yesterday
She hides the bruises with the linen and lace, oh
The teacher wonders but she doesn’t ask
It’s hard to see the pain behind the mask
Bearing the burden of a secret storm
Sometimes she wishes she was never born
Through the wind and the rain she stands hard as a stone
In a world that she can’t rise above
But her dreams give her wings and she flies to a place
Where she’s loved concrete angel
Somebody cries in the middle of the night
The neighbors hear but they turn out the light
A fragile soul caught in the hands of fate
When morning comes it will be too late
Through the wind and the rain she stands hard as a stone
In a world that she can’t rise above
But her dreams give her wings and she flies to a place
Where she’s loved concrete angel
A statue stands in a shaded place
An angel girl with an upturned face
A name is written on a polished rock
A broken heart that the world forgot
Through the wind and the rain she stands hard as a stone
In a world that she can’t rise above
But her dreams give her wings and she flies to a place
Where she’s loved concrete angel
