I don't like kids. I never have. Yes, I know, I have two of them, but believe me. I don't like kids. Growing up, I honestly never thought I'd procreate. Even when I was young, I disliked children; maybe I hung out with my parents and their friends too much, but I just never related to human beings younger than me. I had no idea what to do with them. The rare occasions that I babysat were a complete nightmare. I remember babysitting for a couple that my parents knew (they volunteered me for the job without asking me, and waited until the last minute to announce that I was going over to almost-strangers' house to babysit a couple of rugrats I'd never actually met before), and I left the one kid sitting in the family room screaming for the entire evening, and spent most of my time attempting to refrain from punching his older sister, which was particularly difficult once she matter-of-factly announced that my hair was ugly. For what it's worth, I didn't harm a hair on her ratty little head.
As I got older, I'd watch the carnage left by toddlers as they were left to wander around restaurants and steal food off of other patrons' plates - one of the many instances in which I feel it's perfectly acceptable to re-institute punishments made popular in the Middle Ages - and plug my ears and grimace whenever one of the little germ factories was having a temper tantrum in a public place.
Then I got married, and my biological clock started ticking LIKE THIS (to quote a bodysuit-clad Marisa Tomei), and out popped two offspring of my own. And before you start freaking out and calling Child Social Services, I love them a lot. I have moments when I want to wring their necks, but as any parent can tell you, raising kids is a beautiful, indescribable experience in myriad ways. What I realized is that I don't dislike ALL kids. I just dislike other people's kids. I suspect that, for the most part, children weren't on my radar growing up unless they were misbehaving, which led me to believe that all kids are awful. And to be fair, ALL kids misbehave; it's what they do. They test boundaries because they have to.
Pssssst, guess what? You can help shape your children into something not-so-awful. Those boundaries they're testing? You should probably set some. Whether or not they know it, they want boundaries. They need them. If your kid is being a little bastard, and disrupting everyone around him or her, DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT, for God's sake. Because I guarantee it's not just me fantasizing about finding the nearest clock tower and taking some cathartic revenge to give my nerves some peace.
I make sure my kids know how to not be awful so that I'm not "that parent." So really, thank you, "those parents." Thank you for teaching me how NOT to raise my kiddos. Gratitude also goes to my mom; without her example, I would never be able to communicate a diatribe with one raised eyebrow. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go wash Play-Dough out of the cat's fur.