everyone else, immediately and mercilessly:
[calls them out, repeats the flub in increasingly mocking voices, uses the flub in a sentence. brings the flub up again later in the video. brings the flub up again in a different video. brings the flub up again on their deathbed. immortalizes the flub. creates seven different t-shirt designs. erects a monument for the flub. develops a three-part rock opera for the flub.]
“Keepers of private notebooks are a different breed altogether, lonely and resistant rearrangers of things, anxious malcontents, children afflicted apparently at birth with some presentiment of loss…But our notebooks give us away, for however dutifully we record what we see around us, the common denominator of all we see is always, transparently, shamelessly, the implacable ‘I.’ We are not talking here about the kind of notebook that is patently for public consumption, a structural conceit for binding together a series of graceful pensées; we are talking about something private, about bits of the mind’s string too short to use, an indiscriminate and erratic assemblage with meaning only for its maker.”
by Joan Didion (1966), in Slouching Towards Bethlehem, 1969, London: Andre Deutch.
so we were talking about how kids today are given trophies for everything and praised for everything (I know, yikes) and I was thinking about my experience in school and working with little kids.
none of this is true.
teachers are generally tired of kids messing around and will scream at them until they’re too scared to move. it even made me uncomfortable when I was in high school volunteering to teach them.
it’s very strange that people see this as the ideal form of parenting and punishing kids, and everything else is “too laid back” or whatever, because it’s completely untrue.
I have no experience parenting, but drawing from my own experience in an abusive household, I didn’t yell at them. what I did was really simple: if they were misbehaving, i’d tell them that if they didn’t stop they couldn’t have/do [thing]. like this one girl needs help getting on a swing because she’s short, so I said “if you want to go on the swing you have to stop throwing your food around”, and she listened. no yelling or threat of physical harm involved. kids have thoughts, feelings, and wants just like everyone else. I can guarantee you this is extremely easy.
so to hear this discussion about ‘kids these days’ was kind of upsetting, because the other kind of abusive parenting actually does harm.
when I was little, my dad would scream at me if I kept getting math problems wrong on my homework. you know what that did? make me not want to ask adults for help. it made me scared to communicate my feelings. all these things do are make children afraid to express why they feel the way they do and work things out.
the fact that I as a 17-18 year old, with no parenting experience, could get kids to behave without abuse, says a fucking lot about how entitled and abusive parents can be. “don’t abuse children” is apparently a very controversial opinion for some reason!
anyway, kids aren’t annoying objects, there are reasons why they behave the way they do and abuse isn’t the way to tell them what they’re doing is inappropriate and get them to follow rules.
Summary:You’re at your mom’s house with your kids when your husband sends you a very NSFW photo while he’s away.
Word Count: 1,116
Warnings: children (because apparently that needs a warning), a stubborn toddler, NSFW photo under the cut, embarrassment, sexting, implied smut
A/N: @wayward-girl sent me this photo and my brain just kicked into overdrive so… here ya go. This is also my (very late - I’m so, so sorry) submission for @frickfracklesackles‘s 1,000 Followers Celebration Challenge. My prompt was “I don’t know whether to worship at your feet or spank the living shit out of you.” and is bolded below.
Jared was in Los Angeles, shooting some promo shoot for something he wouldn’t tell you about. It seemed sketchy, but you shrugged it off for the most part. Packing up the kids, you headed for your mom’s house, knowing she’d listen to your worrying about there being another woman while also helping you with Jake and Lauren.
Day two without Jared, and you were missing him. You woke up that morning and shot him a text, just saying, “Wish you were here,” with a kissing emoticon. After laying in bed for ten more minutes with no reply, you sighed and planted your feet on the floor. Trudging to the kitchen, you clutched the warm black mug between your hands, savoring every single sip of the holy liquid you were taking in.