To Whom it May Concern,
I’ll start by saying that this isn’t meant to be judgmental. It’s an observation, and as always, simply my opinion. But if the content within tickles your sensitivities, then perhaps you are in need of an adjustment in your parenting skills. This isn’t just a plea for you. It’s for your children, and the next generation. I’m going to tell you a story.
Yesterday I attended a picnic at a public location, and found myself in the company of a large crowd of strangers. I had taken my two, young daughters to the water’s edge to enjoy some leisurely swimming on such a warm day. While in public, outside the confines of your own backyard, you’ll often observe differing styles of parenting, but what I saw yesterday took the cake.
In the less crowded area we chose to swim there were a couple of other families present. My eldest was excited for an opportunity to play with other kids. There were three children who joined us in the lake water. They ranged in approximate age from 2-6 years old, and I could see their group of around ten adults at a picnic table some 150 yards away.
I didn’t think too much about the fact that no adult joined the three children at the water’s edge, even as they shared with me that they couldn’t swim. I felt certain someone must be watching them, and didn’t think much about it as I stayed close and played with my girls.
In retrospect, I know we spent about four hours in the water, and I can’t say that I ever saw the parents of the three, small siblings who played with my girls. A woman joined them towards the end of our play. She called herself “Aunt DeeDee,” and it didn’t go unnoticed by me that she was under the influence. I’ve been drunk enough in my past to spot the way it slurs your voice and makes your eyes appear swollen, yet squinty.
She made her appearance so she could drag the two youngest children, on her unsteady hips, into the water against their will. I’m all about showing children to not fear the water, but as they kicked and screamed, “momma, momma” towards the picnic tables, I wondered if her approach might be too much for kids so young.
Subsequently, I never saw “momma” come to their aid.
It might sound like I was being nosy, or concerning myself with things that are none of my business. I would normally agree, and in fact, I personally get frustrated at strangers trying to tell someone how to parent. But the circumstances I describe forced me to become a part of them.
Prior to the drunken aunt, I watched while the two year old struggled to not drown. I personally retrieved her from the water when she sunk below the murky brown waves brought to the shore by passing boats. I realized I was watching my children and those of another, pretty much without choice.
The eldest child, a boy, never got in the water, but instead took a high point on the shore and threw rocks at us. No, not around us, or even past us. He threw them at us. He hit my three year old, but since it grazed her life jacket, I let it go.
I asked nicely the first time. “Please don’t throw rocks at us.”
The second time I pleaded. The third time, after a rock landed inches from my baby’s head, I sternly instructed him. The fourth time, just prior to me collecting my children and leaving, I again chastised the young boy. I did it very loudly so as to gain the attention of the table of adults. Surely his father would come down there.
No one intervened.
The four year old little girl was so lovely. She had looked at one of our floats longingly, and I finally let her play with it. I did not realize at the time that I wouldn’t get it back.
Surely the group of laughing adults who had brought these children noticed that after we left their little girl who couldn’t swim was floating in water over her head in a purple hippo, dollar store, non-life saving device. I watched her bob about from a distance and wondered if someone might ask her about the float.
We began to pack-up our gear, and I listened as my husband stated, “Just let the kid have it. What did it cost, $2?!”
It probably did, but it wasn’t the float I wanted. I wanted someone to acknowledge the float was ours. I wanted someone to acknowledge that beautiful little girl floating in the water by herself. Drunk Aunt DeeDee was fifty yards away, floating on her back, strangely slurring, “I baptize you in the name of Jesus. Only in Merica!” But I guess I wanted more than that.
I went down to the shore and the lovely little girl floated over to me. I loudly explained we were leaving and needed our float, but she laughed and floated away.
That’s pretty typical behavior for a young child, and it didn’t bother me. She was so lovely. What bothered me was the lack of intervention from everyone over four years old (excluding the rock thrower).
I wanted someone to instruct these kids! “Don’t throw rocks.” Or perhaps, “don’t take something that’s not yours.” I wanted someone to watch them so they wouldn’t drown. I wanted someone to play with them! (I certainly wasn’t counting drunk Aunt Dee).
Most of all I wanted someone on that hill to turn around and pay attention to those three gorgeous children I saw. Those kids deserved someone to be watching when they trilled loudly, “Hey, look at me! Look at what I can do!” They didn’t need me clapping for their accomplishments, although I did. They needed their parents.
Where were their parents anyway?! It was as if they didn’t exist. It wasn’t the float that bothered me. It wasn’t having to keep someone else’s kids from drowning. Heck, it wasn’t even the rocks. It was the nonexistent parenting that got to me.
I’m not saying I’m perfect. My eyes aren’t always on my kids, and I’m certainly not drawing a solid conclusion of the situation I described above, but if it walks like a
duck and quacks like a duck, then what does that tell you?
I’m also not advocating helicopter parenting here. You don’t have to always hover, and teaching autonomy is great, but it’s important to remember that kids need guidance too. They need instruction. They need someone to keep them safe. I could have been some weirdo for all those folks knew. Just because I have kids doesn’t mean I’m not a sicko or something. So, I’m saying that kids need to be protected from harm. But mostly kids need to feel like you’re there. They need to know that you’re watching, and that if they cry out “momma” that you’ll come.
When children are ignored they lack basic feelings of love, acceptance, and self-esteem. Without your guidance they are unaware of what’s right and wrong. You end up setting your children up for future failure.
It’s a vicious cycle of noninvolvement that leads down an ugly road. They will likely be unable to perform successfully in relationships. They will lack a moral compass. I believe that children can escape their upbringing, but it’s difficult. I can’t predict the future, but it’s possible that your inability to be present for your children is leading to their future demise. Your nonexistent parenting style is raising future divorcees, addicts, criminals, and of course, bad parents. Your grandchildren just said thank you (insert sarcasm here).
Your children need you. They need you to be there at the water’s edge to hold their hand. If not they might just step out over their head. Then they’re gone. Are you catching my symbolism?! God, I hope so!
So I’m going to beg you like I did the kid throwing rocks. Please, please. Stop being absent for your kids. Get involved before it’s too late. It doesn’t matter how you were raised. You can change things. You can be a better parent. You can raise a child capable of more than you ever dreamed possible. But it starts with being there for them.
Please, please.
Sincerely,
The Lady at the Lake