I have meant to blog for sometime now about being a parent who does not like kids, but every time I tried it seemed to bomb well before paragraph 2. But today as I sat out on the sunny bench at the playground being a parent who doesn’t like kids came back to me.

Phoenix is probably one of the friendliest children you will ever meet. Yes, he may point a gun at me but he also rubs my back as I vomit so you take the good with the bad & there you have the facts of life.

Because of Phoenix’s strong-willed attitude at home I always worry that in public that he will display that but he never ever ever does. I mean that. He’s like an angel with other children. If your child has fallen he will literally began to pick him up & give him a hug. 

But I started thinking today that maybe his public persona could be a problem. 

Let me start with a little background on me. I don’t like kids. I’m not a babysitter, I’m not going to chat with your kid for hours when they come up to me, & I try not to make eye contact with your adorable babbling baby because then she won’t leave me alone while I’m stuffing my face & I spend my entire meal smiling & cooing. Nice. But not my idea of fun.

I’m a mother that doesn’t like kids, except for my own. I think his stories & imagination are one of kind & could listen to him for hours…but could you?

That’s my fear every time we make our way to the park or any other public place that allows my kid to run semi-unsupervised. Instead of playing with all the other wild boys who are stealing trucks & pushing kids down he runs over to you & strikes about a conversation “Hi! I’m Phoenix Campbell. I like pirates. And my mom has a baby & I have train table & love Thomas & Percy” and on & on he goes.

“Phoenix sweetie come on over here & play in the sand” so he does until he spots another you with your 14 month old toddling around & this time he wants to play with her until I can see you looking around trying to find out who this red haired afro kid belongs to, waving from my perch at the bench with book in hand I call Phoenix over again.

I stopped myself today though because I couldn’t decide if I looked like That mother {whoever That mother is, but whomever she is we all know we don’t want to be her} or if my kid was being genuinely annoying & I was coming off as unaware.

I’m sure a lot of this is me projecting my own social stigmas on Phoenix & maybe you at the park. I probably should leave Phoenix be to explore socially however that looks {within reason} but my social anxiety is constantly on high alert. 

What is your other person kid tolerance, are you down with other people’s precious kids? Do you think a kid like Phoenix would bother you {be honest!} 

We had our Old Navy tank tops tied up under our breast that revealed bellies that had yet to be scarred by babies & stretch marks.Sparkly rhinestones placed deliberately around our belly buttons & the corner of our eyes. Our hair similar styled in our signature gel produced curls & wedges on our feet. We were 16, 13, & 12, but with puberty on our side we looked much older.

We pranced up to the door of the venue in hopes that we’d catch the roving eye of a perfectly coiffed boy band member. At the time throwing our sexuality {or what we deemed to be sexy} was our way of making sure we landed the extra movie tickets, the free drinks {non-virgin of course}, and the attention of every guy in the place. Most of the time it worked. Sometimes a little too good.

There were the boys men that offered to walk us back to our car after the concert but the wise 12 year old stopped us. There were the Navy boys who showed up to church on Sundays in their long black trench coats & glasses. The boys at the theater that always made sure we didn’t pay for snacks, the boys who wiped the Hollywood Video late fees clean & the boys who lavished us with praises. We were teenagers & we loved it.

But now we are all moms & I’m sure that they’d both agree with me when I say I would take my daughter over my knee, pants down to her ankle & make sure she never wanted to show belly again if she ever tried to pull stunts like we did.

All of this was only 10 years ago for me. To some that might feel like a lifetime ago, but for me it was just yesterday that we walked around at the amusement park with our shorts undone & bikini tops on. It never occurred to me the kinds of messages we were sending out & the type of trouble that we attracted. To me it was all fun & games. And maybe it was. We were naïve teenagers, what did we know?

But this past Wednesday I felt the need to call my parents up & profusely apologize for trying to run around town looking like the town hooker. Teenage girls haven’t changed that much in the last 10 years. Movies, shopping trips, & concerts are still treated like their own personal ABC hosted rose ceremony. Tiny skirts, flashing glitter, high heels, & lots of flirts. I spent a good 2 hours getting ready for the Cody Simpson/Greyson Chance concert on Wednesday night. For one it’s been a while since I’ve gotten “dressed up” to go out at night & two {and I say this with no Real Housewives I’m all that tone in my voice} I knew that we would be meeting a lot of either executives, celebrities & fans & I’d like to not look like I cleaned the oven all day.

However, no amount of time could have readied me to compete with a 13 year old “child” star. I stood on the deck of the concert venue {which was very much reminiscent of the venue I mentioned earlier} & watched as 3 13 year old girls sashayed their way backstage. “How old are they?!” I exclaimed to Shawn after they went inside & sure enough he confirmed my fear. They were barely teenagers. But the worst part of it was their mother was following closely behind. If I had worn a jacket I would have given it to all 3 girls to share {because they are that small}.

If I had seen them maybe  6/7 years ago I would have asked where they had gotten the Bodycon dress, the 4 inch stilettos, & the cropped top. But I’m a mother now & all I could see was these girls being surrounded by not the boys they were hoping to attract, but the men I don’t even want to attract. And I couldn’t help but think that I had a son at home & that these are the types of girls that would make me a 32 year  old grandmother.

I’m shaking just thinking about it.

And to prove I’m not crazy a popular celebrity blogger posted about the same exact girl the same exact night.

Maybe it’s time for these moms to stop counting the pennies & start measuring the lengths of these skirts.

Yesterday was my birthday. I know happy happy birthday to me right? Shawn got me this and this for my birthday a few weeks ago. And I got myself this.

And yesterday I wrote this (how many times can you say “this” in a post) and was so overwhelmed by how awesome all the responses I got back were. Thanks blog community I’ve struggled with telling this story and I’m glad I did. Seriously! Thank you to everyone who commented here, on Twitter, on my personal Facebook and even sent emails. It meant SO much to me.

But on a lighter note I’d like to share the crafter side of me and show you this great tutorial (when I say this word I always say “tootorial” I feel like such an idiot)

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Phoenix is obsessed with being a dog. At random times during the day he’ll get on all 4′s and go “I a dog” this will happen, at home, at church, at Disney World, in airports, in restaurants. It doesn’t matter. When Phoenix is a dog you can only call him by “Dog” or “Copper” if not he’ll loudly exclaim “No! I a dog! No! I Copper!” and he’ll crawl around picking up things with his mouth and crawl back over to you. At which point you have to rub his head say “Aww thank you dog!”

Saturday night during his exciting dog adventures he banged his head on someones bed.

The knot was of epic egg size proportions. It was so bad I couldn’t even look at my own child!

But then the super-crafty mom that I am clicked in and I came up with this.

Lazy Mom Knot Holder

What you’ll need:

1 injured child (if you have more than one just double everything)

A knot the size of a small country

80′s style headband (you know the kind you only put on to wash your face?)

Small ziploc sandwich bag of ice with 2-3 pieces

Child’s dirty PJ shirt

1 lazy mother who is unwilling to hold ice pack on injured child’s head so she can do important things like play with her new NOOK

Step 1: Fawn all over the injured child and make sure he can recite his name, your name, his age (“3 in Augus”) and count to 10 (“1, 2, free, 4, 5, 6789, 10″). WARNING: If your child can’t do any of this throw on a bra and rush to the hospital. Just in case.

Step 2: Fill sandwich bag with ice. Close the bag (important step!).

Step 3: Take 80′s style headband and wrap around child’s head.

Step 4: Then take the dirty PJ shirt (Must be dirty. Softer that way) and wrap the ice bag inside and stick all of this under the headband and place over the knot.

Step 5: Spend the next 10 minutes listening to your child say “No, No. I not hurt. I ok” but bribe him with paci’s, Oreos, Thomas the Train or threaten bed and you should be fine.

And there you have it! A full-proof medical supply, strictly for us lazy moms. Let me know if this works for you.

And if you think I’m serious just read the tag this is under.