Aiden's Mom Sucks

I'm not the best parent in the world. I try hard, but sometimes I yell at my kids when I shouldn't, sometimes I let them do things they shouldn't, and occasionally I feed them M&M's and Sprite for breakfast. That said, we've tried, as parents, to give our kids at least a little bit of independence so they can figure stuff out for themselves. We don't let them skip around in the street or smoke cigars or anything like that, but we do attempt to let them be, without a constant adult presence around them. It seems to have served them well. Outside of brawling with each other on a nightly basis, and occasionally flicking boogers at us, they seem to be happy, intelligent children.

With that in mind, I reserve a certain, special, vitriolic hatred for those parents who cannot get the fuck out of their kids' shadows for even one second throughout the day. I hate them like I hate Hornets and Roundabouts and Heely's and Dog the Bounty Hunter. Hate them. Here's why:

1.) Their kids are usually really poorly adjusted to life, probably because they haven't been allowed to do any living, so therefore you might see a 4 year old kid who:

• Is really whiny about everything
• Is really fuckin' stupid for his age
• Is still breast-feeding
  
• Spends all his time baby talking gibberish and drooling on his sweater with barnyard caricatures on it
  
• Craps his pants frequently

(I mention "he" here because it's never a little girl being smothered. It's always a boy with a crazy ass mom. Always.)

2.) They give off an air of smug superiority, as if to say, "I don't trust all you morons to realize how special my child is, so I'm never going to let him near you or your inferior offspring without being nearby to shove him in the right direction should he get too near the riff-raff"

3.) They always have a misshapen ass. Always. You can't trust anybody with a misshapen ass.

4.) They are constantly in the way. I coached my kids' basketball team last year and one of the other teams was filled with parents like this. Consequently, there were as many adults on the court as kids for that team. It was so obnoxious.

"Your kid is 4! He can't even run 10 feet without tripping on a dust particle and falling over! Stop harassing him!! HE'S NOT GOING TO CROSSOVER DRIBBLE!! Get your misshapen ass off the court!!"

And don't even get me started on the mother who tried to scold our team for guarding her son too closely. That one got a Jensen size 13 Nike in her misshapen ass.

Personally, I thought that team's parents encompassed the dregs of parental society, that that was as bad as it could get. Sadly, I was mistaken.

Let me introduce you to a woman we'll call "Aiden's Mom" (because that's who she is). Aiden's mom has a son named Aiden, and a daughter named "Hey You" that gets her shoelaces tied by Aiden's dad. Both Aiden and "Hey You" go to gymnastics with my kids.

I want to beat the shit out of Aiden's Mom. Literally. I want to smash her face into a pommel horse. I want to fling her off the high uneven bar. I want to choke her with the rings. I want to drop a Port-A-Pit on her. She is quite possibly the worst person in the world, the Genghis Khan of overprotective gymnastics mothers with misshapen asses.

The first time we met Aiden's Mom was in the lobby at gymnastics. The lobby was crowded. My mother was in there, looking very much like you might expect my mother to look. Aiden's Mom began shoving her way through the crowd, carrying Aiden. She got to my mom and said, "Excuse me, I have to get through." When typed, that sounds polite. When Aiden's Mom said it, it was definitely not polite. (You can ask my mom if you don't believe me). Those 7 words made me think to myself, "Wow, that lady is a mean slut!" I was right.

While the rest of the parents sit on chairs and watch from the lobby area, and gossip, and send text messages, and work on their laptops and whatnot, Aiden's Mom is IN the gymnastics area, following Aiden around at all times, and paying absolutely no attention to the other 8 kids in Aiden's class, or Aiden's teacher. If you listen for about 5 minutes, you'll hear the following over and over ad nauseum:

"Hurry up Aiden"
"Watch out Aiden"
"Bounce on your bottom Aiden"
"Out of the way, here comes Aiden"
"Wait for me Aiden"
"Your the best one, Aiden" (said within earshot of the other kids)
"YAYYYYYY Aiden"

The final straw (and this was the thing that even irked the people on laptops that weren't paying attention) was when a little girl hit a slippery spot and fell off the trampoline. She wasn't hurt badly, but it scared her and she was crying. Instead of consoling the girl, Aiden's Mom brushed past her as if she didn't exist and ran over and grabbed Aiden as he approached the slippery spot. I'm no moral purist, but that's messed up.

I'm not proud to admit this, but I kept hoping Aiden would break his leg or get kidnapped by gypsies or fall down a well or something, just so this woman would have to eat a little crow, admit her ass was misshapen, and conclude perhaps that no matter how hard you suffocate your child, eventually he's going to have to breathe on his own.

She probably won't though, at least not without a fight. She's not a great person, but she thinks she's the best. Well, let me save you the suspense lady. You suck balls. And Aiden will always be an effeminate little weiner because of you. Always.

(Follow-Up: As we were leaving last night, Aiden's Dad was tying "Hey You's" shoelaces when Aiden's Mom said, "Hey You, I noticed you weren't putting forth your best effort while stretching. That is NOT how we do things in our family. Looks like we'll be working on that when we get home." "Hey You" is 5. I hate Aiden's Mom...)

Phone Books, Still?

I realized while searching in vain in my garage for my stupid missing ice scraper the other day, that I have about 30 different phone books laying around on the garage floor. This perplexes me. Why do we still get paper versions of the phone book? When was the last time you actually looked in the phone book? Actually, when was the last time your phone book served any purpose other than "doorstop" or "part of pile of random detritus piled in the garage"?

I don't understand this, and what's more, some guy came by to give me another phone book the other day, and he slipped in the driveway and fell in some dirty snow. As a former Qwest delivery boy myself when I was 18-20, I would never have been caught dead delivering phone books in the snow, and I was a moron back then, even more so than I am now. As proof of this, I offer up some moron-type things I did while delivering phone books.

1.) Went into a yard with a scary dog hiding behind a bush and threw the Yellow Pages at him in order to get away.

2.) Went delivering on a 95 degree day with no water, 12 cents in my pocket, and no credit cards. I had to periodically sneak into people's yards and drink from their sprinklers in order not to die. This led to an awkward exchange between me and a kid about my age who I startled when he popped out of a house I was drinking from.

Kid: Uh, hi. Who are you?

Me: Sorry. I'm delivering Phone Books and I, ummm, I got thirsty. So I was drinking from the sprinkler. Sorry.

Kid: Oh. Ok. (Stares at the ground for a long time)

Me: Well, I gotta go. Thanks for the water.

Kid: I don't even live here...

3.) Got really lost trying to find a neighborhood in Roseville and in the midst of an epic car tantrum, punched the windshield and spider-webbed it. Calmed down to process my actions, found the neighborhood, finished the delivery, and proceeded to blame the broken windshield on a rock falling off an overpass. (Side Note: My parents believed this, even though the break originated from the inside. Must have been a clever rock.)

4.) Told an old toothless homeless guy that loaded the phonebooks into my car from a big trailer that my favorite drink was Tanqueray even though I had no idea what it was at the time and was just trying to seem cool because I heard Snoop Dogg mention it. Thankfully he did not call my bluff. It's always embarrassing to have an old toothless, homeless guy throw the bullshit flag at you. Thankfully it's only happened twice to me.

5.) Got bored delivering one day and threw all my phonebooks in a dumpster and then claimed to have finished the route. Got paid anyway. Learned later that throwing phone books away is illegal. Also threw 2 phone books in a Port-A-Potty to see what would happen once.

6.) Delivered a phone book directly into the hands of a crazy person who to thanked me and then said

"You know, 75% of the 500,000 gooks in the world are chinks. Heh heh heh, that's a lot of chinks!"

It's been 15 years and I'm still trying to figure out what that meant.

7.) Almost got killed by a cadre of Mexican gang members because they thought I was trying to sneak in or something. I set the book on the porch and was leaving when I heard,

"Hey, what are you doing?"

Me: Oh, just delivering your phone book

Him: You like the music?

Me: No, phone book

Him (after long pause): What are you doing here?

Two other guys came out looking angry.

Them: What are you doing here?

Me: Phone books guys, phone books!

They didn't know what phone books were and I was about to get shanked. I finally walked between them all, picked up the phone book, pointed at it and said "Phone Book". It was like Gangsta Sesame Street.

They were all OK with that, but when I left I distinctly heard a "Que Esta Haciendo" coming from one of them. I'm not getting killed over phone books.

So yeah, I was a dumb kid delivering phone books, but even I knew not to deliver in the winter, or even at all anymore. It's just unnecessary clutter. Thanks anyway, but from now on please deliver my phone books to homeless shelters or malnourished kids or something. Thanks.