The Racist Mom Had Another Baby

Congratulations to Racist Mom and her husband (let’s call him Freaky Work-Avoiding Jackknife-Carrying Dad): they had a baby boy last night.

Here’s the horrible, horrible truth: I feel sorry for the boy already.

Poor Park Buddy watched their 3-year old girl overnight. (Oooh, we’re doing names: how about we’ll call her “Poorly Coping Toddler With The Racist Mom and the Freaky Work-Avoiding Jackknife-Carrying Dad.”) PCTwtRMatFWAJCD (for short) was a handful, since she has already been taught, at her tender age:

  • When something doesn’t go your way, scream.
  • If you want something, scream. The louder, the better.
  • Not sure what you want? Try screaming.

And, most eerie of all:

  • Never call out for mom or dad.

All night, staying in a strange house, she never once asked for her parents. On the playground, she handles challenges by screaming, and rarely she’ll ask for her mom. She shuns her dad, who, I’m sorry to say, often hangs out at the playground, despite frequent calls from work asking why he’s not fixing things. (Ever wonder why your workmen aren’t showing up? They might be at the playground.)

Oh, and by the way, at 3 years old, Poorly-Coping Toddler still co-sleeps every night. I know there’s a debate about this, but it seems uncontroversial to suggest that a 3-year old should occasionally be able to sleep on her own. Doesn’t it make you wonder how Racist Mom got pregnant again? Yikes.

I used to have a lot of respect for people who eschew parenting books. The books I’ve read are pretty crappy, on the whole — mostly common sense, with anything useful interrupted by pointless anecdotes and glitzy sidebars. After witnessing the way these two instruct Poorly-Coping Toddler on life skills, I honestly think that cracking a few parenting guides should be mandatory.

  • I’ve never seen either parent say anything loving to PCTwtRMatFWAJCD. Never. “Good job?” Um, nope.

  • A couple of days ago, PC(etc.)Toddler  lost a toy to another kid. Jackknife-Carrying Dad’s response: “Just give it up. Or go take it back! But don’t cry about it.” Don’t cry about it. Give it up. That’s useful. There’s something quite wrong with this guy.

  • When he went to pick up PCTwtRMatFWAJCD after his new son was born, FWAJCDad just wandered upstairs into Park Buddy’s bedroom. Just looking around, I guess. Eeeew.

  • At the playground last week, FWA(etc.)Dad rushed Boobaby — seriously, bore down on her, running, from several feet away — to keep her from eating a cracker she’d just dropped. She was completely freaked out by the weird guy stealing her crackers, and cried harder than I’ve ever seen her do. Boo’s a rough-and-tumble, gregarious kid, but she needed ten minutes of consoling to get over it, and she still looks warily at FWA(etc.)Dad.

I think one of the crappiest parts about parenting is witnessing weird-ass parents doing real mental damage to their children. This little girl is growing up in a family where expressions of love are non-existent, replaced by her parents’ xenophobic conspiracy theories, self-centeredness, whining, and racism. It falls short of reportable abuse, but I feel honest-to-God physical pain to see this beautiful child so neglected and forlorn. I just hope (against much evidence) that I’m wrong, I’m blowing everything out of proportion, or these new parents will learn to improve their skills.

Not that you probably need reminding, but hug your kids for me, will y’all?