Not in Front of the Children

I have recently moved on the parenting scale from mildly annoyed to appalled by older Disney movies. Violence. Drinking. Language. My kids' current favorite (and by favorite I mean obsession bordering on disturbing) is 101 Dalmatians. A family favorite, one might think. But, think again! The language is appalling. I had already noticed that in the first 15 minutes the parents use the word idiot at least four times! Then, at the dinner table the other night, Gee (who is 27 months old) yelled SHUT UP to no one in particular. It just sort of popped, very Tourettes-like, out of his mouth. For a few minutes I felt horribly guilty because my language is hardly pure, but I am pretty sure I have never told my two year olds to shut up, or even my husband for that matter. Watching 101 Dalmatians for the 1001st time, I noticed that the mean puppy stealers not only tell the puppies to SHUT UP, but also throw things at them while guzzling booze from a large glass bottle. At least I assume it's booze since it causes an appealing explosion when Cruella throws it into the fire.


[Aside: Yes, my children watch Disney movies. Almost every day. Yes, I am aware that if I didn't let them watch TV they would not be exposed to any inappropriate content, Disney or otherwise. Yes, I am aware that some wonderful parent out there is judging me sadly lacking right now in both parental skill and judgment. I don't care. They like Disney movies. But, far more importantly, I like Disney movies. For 90 precious minutes in my day, there is no whining, no tantrums, no repetitive song-singing or game playing. They are quiet and happy and I can feed the baby while reading a book.]

The new movies are fine. It's the classics that are a little seamy around the edges. Yesterday, I put in The Rescuers because we have a moratorium on 101 Dalmatians and I could not possibly watch Cars (KA-CHOW), Fish (Finding Nemo), or Elephants (Ice Age) one more time. Terrible. Mice drinking, people drinking, guns, language (shut up and idiot). It has been put away until they are fifteen. I had no idea - and no memory from childhood - that those old cartoons were so racy. Maybe some standards have changed for the better in the last 20 years! I wonder what word Marlin utters that will be considered horrible by some mother in 2027??

Meanwhile, any Disney contribution to my kids' delinquincy is far outweighed by my own foul mouth. We have all discussed at length that 'shut up' is not a nice thing to say. I have explained over and over for my little parrots that it is disrespectful and rude and the puppy nappers are not nice men. We have practiced saying "be quiet please" and "no talking right now please." All of which boils down to one phrase in their little minds - 'no shut up.' A phrase used so often and with such pleasure that I begin to think they have outsmarted me. (Who am I kidding, I KNOW they have outsmarted me.) Can I give a time out for telling me gravely and with a serious nod 'no shut up mommy, no say shut up.' Perhaps not the first time, but after the 400th repitition, even this deluded, outsmarted mother starts to smell a rat.

Then, last week a semi cut me off on a turn and as I slammed on my breaks to keep from driving beneath the trailer, the delightful human being behind me laid on his horn. Without thinking, I glared daggers into my review mirror and dropped the big one. F#$% YOU! Followed immediately by two little echos - 'no f#$& you, momma.' Sigh. Parent of the week award, right here. Yes, darlings, that's right, it's disrespectful and rude. Go ahead and tell momma to shut up.

I had already received a gold medal for my parenting last Wednesday before this incident. We went to the Jump and Bounce (LOVE the J&B, more on that later) and during the unloading fiasco Gee got ahold of my keys. I thought nothing of it until, two hours later, when I came downstairs after putting them down for naps and noticed that the van's tailgate was up. It operates remotely with a button on the keys so I just closed it from the kitchen and settled into the couch. After naps, I reloaded them all in the van for gymnastics, strapped them in, loaded their snack and diaper paraphenalia, and climbed into the driver seat. I started to back down the driveway and out of the corner of my eye I noticed something large and black and disturbingly furry on the floor in front of the front passenger seat. Apparently, my instincts for self-preservation are alive and running strong because I threw it in park and BOLTED from the van. I was outside in the snow and several feet away with my heart pounding before I realized that I had just abandoned my three small children to the mercy of whatever I was running away from in terror. Helpless, strapped in the danger zone, I heard my son call from the rear seat 'whatchya doin, momma?' Just saving myself son.

Fortunately, the unidentified fur ball was only my neighbor's cat, taking a little snooze out of the cold. I am not sure what I thought it was when I first saw it, but it definitely didn't occur to me to throw myself between it and my offspring. Survival of the fittest, surburban style.

We leave for Mexico at 7:30 a.m. tomorrow. Two planes, two adults, three babies. Wish us luck!