Quit Your Female Doggin'

Summertime and the living is easy.

Fish are jumping and the cotton is high.

Your daddy is rich and your mamas good lookin'.

So quit your bitchin'.

That's right, spoiled suburban children of America. QUIT YOUR BITCHIN'!

Maybe it is ugly to tell a child to quit bitching. Maybe you prefer to speak the following words in a soft and gentle and nurturing tone.

"Little Damien, please cease your whining."
"Little Labyrinth, please mute your discontent."
"Little Aspen-Elizabeth-Alyssa-Abigail-Bradley-Leigh, please stifle your unhappiness."

But, let's call it what it really is.

It's bitchin' and you know it.

Summer is here. It should be a hap-hap-happy time for us all.

There's no waking up at the anus crack of dawn to burn a Toaster Strudel. No mummifying yourself in twelve layers of fleece and stuffing Kleenex in your pockets to smear that green phlegm that drips from thy nostril. No homework or tests or cafeteria spaghetti with a side of chocolate milk because Mama forgot to pack your lunch.

It's summertime!

Why you gots to be bitchin'?

You're bored?

Oh, I see. Bored.

Now listen, people, before I go any further, I need to clarify some things.  I'm aware that this post is probably going to make me sound like I'm the one bitchin' and trying to deprive my kids of a fun and adventurous and memory-making summer vacation.

Well, you've got it all wrong.

I get it, okay? I get that camp is fun. I get that slumber parties are fun. I get that interaction with other kids is fun. I'm not trying to rob my children of fun. I do, in fact, let them go to day camps and the church and get together with friends on a regular basis. I'm not some Ma Nazi that locks the kids in their rooms all day and slides a tray of porridge under their door at meal times.

I'm all about fun. I really am.

But I'm talking about picking up the kids from the church or their friends house or day camp and as soon as they park their butts in the booster seat, they are bitchin' for something else to do.

Cease thy bitchin', child.

I've spoiled you rotten all day with ice cream cones and China-made toys and thirty-three rounds of pool Categories. Isn't that good enough for you today? Can't that tide you over for a mere 21 seconds?

My kids are guilty of this. Your kids are guilty of this. That whiny little turd at the park with Kool-Aid stains on his lips and beads of sweat covering his summertime buzz cut is guilty of this.

The youth of today have to be CONSTANTLY entertained! They throw the "bored" word around too frequently. It's wrong, people. It's just wrong!

Let me sum up all of my childhood summer vacations, okay?

Florida for one week, nothing for the other 6.

That's right. Nothing. No camps, no crafts, no clubs. Nothing. I did nothing.

And I turned out just fine, didn't I? (Besides telling children to quit bitchin')

I may have done nothing, but I wasn't bored.

I went swimming. I rode my bike. I caught bugs in a jar and fed them to young vulnerable cousins. I made shit out of sticks and grass clippings. I had a few slumber parties. I watched TV until I fell asleep. I drank Slush Puppies by the trough. I ate squeeze cheese out of the can and played Tetris and talked on the phone about boys and the new "Ernest" movie starring Jim Varney.

That wasn't boring. That was living.

Summertime and the living is easy. That's right. Easy. The opposite of hard. Easy.

Now days kids can't just swim in the pool and work on their handstand. No. They need you to call over 14 friends and spend 12 grand at Wal-Mart on noodles.

They can't play baseball in the back yard. No, no, no. They need you to shell out 245 bucks for them to attend some kind of camp to learn how to throw a curve on the ball that will ultimately end up barreling through Mr. Lowenstein's living room window.

They can't have one slumber party. Nope. They need to invite at least 5 different kids over every night of the week or lightning bolts, locusts and toads may start falling from the sky.

They can't make crap out of sticks and dog turds. No, they have to have a 25 dollar craft set from Hobby Lobby and 14 boxes of macaroni. Then they need you to help them put all that shiz on a string for 3 hours.

Don't have Elmer's glue? That's okay. Daddy's JB Weld should work just fine.

They can't just chill the h-e-double hockey sticks out and enjoy their summer vacation. They have to be stimulated. They have to be in the presence of at least one other child and siblings don't count.

Hey, let's go to the beach for a week. That'll give us something to do. We will make memories that last a lifetime. It'll quiet the kids' bitchin' for a few days.

Fast forward three days later. Your kids are bitchin' because you won't buy that 23 dollar dolphin snow globe at Alvin's Island. They're bitchin' because they want a corn dog and this place only has shrimp poppers. They're bitchin' because it's too hot. The beach is too sandy. The car ride is too long. The sharks are circling their banana boat.

(Jaws fans? Anyone?)

They are engulfed in warm salty breezes. They stand on a balcony overlooking the vast ocean as it laps onto the white sandy beach. They hold souvenirs- an inflatable palm tree, an overpriced pail and bucket and beautiful brightly colored beaded jewelry- and they're bitchin'.

Hark! Children of America! Take heed!

There's never been another generation as spoiled as you. With your iPods and iPads and iDon'tKnowWhatTheHellThisDoesButIAskedForItAndMyMomBoughtItForMeAnyway. Please, I beg of you-

Quit your bitchin'.

At least until August.

**Wait, a memory is resurfacing. I did attend Vacation Bible School four evenings out of the summer, but I sure didn't do it for the crafts. I adamantly told my teacher, "Just teach me about the love of Jesus and leave the Popsicle sticks out of it"**