Ok, I’ve got guests at my house. Correction, my mother’s friend is visiting along with her one year old baby. I don’t like kids, and for some reason, I’m expected by my mother, who knows I can’t stand small children (actually, they kind of almost frighten me. I didn’t grow up around kids my age or younger, I don’t know how to deal with little kids.), to entertain the kid. She is always crying and screaming (yes, I know this is what little kids do) and I just want peace and quiet and have her not be moved closer to me whenever she’s crying. I’m not going to make her stop crying, I don’t want anything to do with her. I don’t care if she likes me, I don’t want to be around kids. I am soooooo not going to want kids for a very long time.
Be blunt that you won’t tolerate this kind of stuff in your own home. It is your house, after all. Or just don’t ever invite people with kids over, and tell your mother to do the same.
She didn’t tell me they were visiting until a day before they got here. And well, I dunno how my mom would react to that. Better not tell her until they are gone and she hasn’t had anything to drink and has gotten enough sleep. [Well, that should be interesting to try to wait for. She’s always cranky and angry.]
then I say bitch-slap dear old Mom and her friend, and slam-dunk the brat into a sound-proof dog carrier. Sometimes the direct approach works best. 
But seriously, if you are an adult with your own home there is just no reason to keep humoring your parents. They either respect your wishes or they don’t respect you. I’m having similar problems with my own mom. It may be hairy for a while, but life goes on.
I know how you feel ssskussgi- Okay forget that butchery of your name. How old are you, btw? just wondering.
Little kids do suck. Especially when they’re loud and obnoxious and their parents just totally ignore them. Gawd.
Sorry you have to put up with the brat Tasha. Is your mom going to ever let you out? Maybe we could do something manana.
I’m almost 18 years old and a junior in high school.
“But seriously, if you are an adult with your own home there is just no reason to keep humoring your parents.”
Lizard, where did you get the idea that I was an adult with my own home? Just wondering. ::blushes and stares at her feet::
[Hijack]
(Jess, I’m sure if you could get a ride both ways and not always have your parents only give you a ride to or from the place, then I’d be able to chill with you more often. Remember, my mom’s about as inconsiderate as yours. Anyway, I’ll see if Becky’s friend Jon will be kewl with taking us all to see quills.)[/hijack]
Consider this to be a light hearted, well intentioned…
snicker
See, the thing about parenthood is… it changes you. Before the ordeal and trauma of a pregnancy, you got a grip on things. Your perception of the world is more or less balanced (well, it’s all relative) then you go through a 9 month ordeal of raging hormones, sleep deprivation, stress, etc… THEN, it all comes to a head on D-day. Then you get to really learn what sleep deprivation, raging hormones and stress are all about… then from the muck and chaos and poopy diapers emerges a little person… and the true impact of the miracle slowly dawns on you… and you lose your objectivity for the rest of your life. This little angel, this wonderful blooming life is absolutely the best thing to come along since flush toilets and it becomes inconceivable that another person won’t immediately realize this. Sorry, ssskuggiii, but this is Mother Nature at work. Best bet? Grin and bear it. That, or get a T-shirt that says I can’t stand small children (actually, they kind of almost frighten me).
Hmmmm…if this were my mom we were talking about, I would suspect that she was, consciously or unconsciously, attempting to spark a maternal instinct in her daughter. This could be out of a conscious desire for grandbabies, or an unconscious attempt to help perpetuate her bloodline and the species as a whole. Don’t be too critical towards her for this - just recognize it for what it is, and make your own decisions.
Of course, maybe it’s just my mom who does this…:rolleyes:
:eek: I do have a maternal instinct, it’s just not towards children. It’s towards my friends. Well, anyway, I hope she’s not expecting any babies from me any time soon since she’s the one who put me on birth control.
You should tell your mom that being around this adorable little child has made you want one so badly that you’re going to have one. Tell her that you found a sperm donor willing to perform on a nightly basis and you hope she doesn’t mind then drag in the most unacceptable man that your mom could imagine. It might scare her into keeping the little ones away from you!
Zoggie: we don’t ignore them, we just very successfully tune them out until they make the appropriate sounds. You know… the blood-curdling scream that means they are really hurt! 
Quote:
“She is always crying and screaming (yes, I know this is what little kids do)”
Well, no they don’t. Not a lot of the time, anyway. One-year-olds ought to be happy little guys, usually. What’s up with this kid’s mom, anyway? Kids don’t scream and cry for no reason.
Well, what I was saying with the screaming thing is that the kid is being an attention whore. If her mother isn’t paying attention to her and she’s in the same room, she’ll start crying. I’m wanted to entertain her in another room when I don’t speak the only language she understands. It makes it just a teensy bit more frustrating for the both of us.
I had a similar thing happen to me, ssskuggiii. I like kids, but really only the ones I know…just like adult people. I love playing with my nephews and friends’ kids, but I really have no interest in strange babies.
I was at a holiday party a few weeks ago that consisted of friends of family plus some of their friends, whom I didn’t know. I was sitting on the couch having a conversation with my dad, my husband, and another man and this guy I had never met came up and set his baby (about 7 months old) down next to me. I guess he thought since I was the only woman within his line of sight, I was the obvious person to look after his baby. He didn’t even say anything…just sat the kid down and went looking for a snack. I sort of patted the kid a bit and watched so he didn’t fall over (he seemed happy enough). After a while, the guy came back and picked him up. He kept sticking the kid in everyone’s face, acting like everyone wanted to hug him or kiss him or something. If you’re a proud dad, fine, but make sure people are interested in your child before you assume they want to be babysitters or even play with him.
Maybe she has colic? Or is she too old? I know for the first three months of my life, I never stopped crying-in fact, the minute my head emerged from mom’s womb, I was screaming-I didn’t even have to be slapped, according to my parents. This was because I was colicky.
Believe me, I know how you feel.
We’re living with my grandma right now. We moved because my hubby got a promotion back to our old hometown. We were in negotiations to buy a house, but that fell through. (If you want the whole, horrible saga, it’s in my thread in MPSIMS "Looks Like I’m Gonna Get Sued.)
Two little girls live next door. I suppose they’re nice enough kids when all is said and done, but they’re driving me batshit.
Their mother is an exotic dancer, so she sleeps all day, and works at night. My grandma is basically raising them at this point. They practically live with us.
At seven A.M, they play the piano. The same eight notes of the beginning of the song over, and over, and over. That’s the only song, and the only PART of it they know. I work late, and usually, lay in bed with the pillow clamped around my head, my teeth clenched, until finally, I fling myself from the bed, throw open the bedroom door, and shout down the stairs “Could you PLEASE wait until at least 10 am?!” The music fumbles to a halt, and I hear a sweet, piping voice say, gosh, she’s sorry, and my, isn’t Lissa grouchy in the morning?
I HAVE NO PEACE!!!
I cannot read. They stand over my shoulder, and ask what the book is about, do I like it, and why did this character say that? Can I read it to them? I sigh . . . It’s a 989 page book.
I cannot watch TV. “Watch me do this, Lissa! Hey Lissa, see this picture in my magazine? Make my sister give me back my magazine! Watch me do this!” Before Christmas, they wanted me to watch them practice their parts in the church play again, and again, and again. A couple of weeks ago, my favorite singer, Charlotte Church, had a special on PBS. I had waited for this for a long time. I sat down to watch it, and only two songs into it, the little girls decided to show off their operatic voices as well. I finally turned off the television, and went upstairs.
I cannot eat. At dinner time, every evening, one or the other of the Terrible Twosome will beat on the door, asking for dinner. Hubby got conned first. I wasn’t home at the time, but they knocked on the door, and told him there was no food in their house and they were hungry. (Turns out there was food, of course, but they didn’t like what was there.) Hubby made them dinner. Then they pulled the sme trick on me. “Aw, little kids shouldn’t go hungry,” I thought. Since then, we have gone out for breakfast, lunch and dinner to a resturant to avoid having little dinner guests who talk with their mouths full, and WILL NOT STOP WITH THE GODDAM QUESTIONS! The local resturants now know us by name, and bring us our preferred drinks and hours d’ourves automatically, asking “Same as usual?”
I cannot have a conversation. They interrupt any conversation by asking one party a question, while the other asks the other party another question. As soon as you answer (tersly) they interrupt your next sentance as well.
I cannot talk on the phone. They bring me things to look at, ask me to watch them do a cartwheel, to make them some juice, to answer this question.
I cannot do a crossword puzzle. “What’s the answer to 59 down?” I don’t know, I say through gritted teeth. I haven’t gotten there yet. “Oh. What’s the answer to this one?” I offer them the puzzle. You can do it, I say, and retreat to my room. Knock, knock, knock. “What’s the answer to this one?”
They pester us night and day. Grandma feels sorry for them because their home situation isn’t all that great. Grandma went on vacation over Christmas, and blessed peace descended! We locked the door, drew the shades, kept the TV at a low volume and pretended we were not at home. Heaven! Cups of tea unspilt, books to read without the page markers being removed by curious hands, TV shows without questions!
This morning she came back in the wee hours. I knew she was back when at 7 am, the piano began playing the first eight notes of “Jolly Old King Wenceles” over and over, and over, and over and over . . .
Try saying things around the kids mother that would make the mom uneasy about leaving the kid with you. Things like “How much cough syrup should I give her if I want her to go to sleep?” or “If you blow in a kids face and then quickly dunk them underwater they will instinctively hold their breathe for up to a minute” or “Kids should be exposed to sci-fi and horror early, to prevent trauma later when they start school”
Don’t actually do this stuff, just say it in front of the Mom often enough and she will beg you to stay away from her kid.
:mad:
Because you said in the OP: “I have guests in my house.” If you still live with your parents then I don’t have much sympathy for you at this point. Sorry, you poor, poor sap! My advice is to just get out and stay out as soon as possible. You might have to move out of the state, too. I’m 24, and I didn’t get away from the kind of crap you describe (though in other forms) until I moved about 2,000 miles away.
Lissa, I know they’re not your kids and it’s not your responsibility to bring them up right, but just for your own sanity, it’s time to teach them some manners. They’re children, and you don’t have to be polite to children in the same way as you do to adults, who’ve (presumably) learned some social graces. It’s okay to tell them what to do. For instance:
When they interrupt your conversations, in person or on the phone, turn to them and say, “Just a minute, I’m talking.” Then you finish your conversation before addressing them, except to repeat that phrase (easier said than done, I know, but after constant repetition it starts working).
When they ask questions about what you’re doing or reading, look at them and say, “I’m busy here, and I really don’t want to talk to you right now. Go find something else to do.”
If you’re trying to watch TV and they’re not letting you, tell them they’ll have to be quiet or go play somewhere else.
When they beg you for food, say, “I’m sorry, but I’m not going to cook for you. You’ll need to go home and ask your mom.”
Make a rule (you’ll need your grandmother’s help with this) that no one is allowed to play the piano until 10 a.m.
If your grandmother objects to any of this, point out to her that you’re doing it in the girls’ best interest. If they don’t learn how to be polite now, no one will ever want to be around them.
If the kid is old enough stick a disney tape in, those usually keep them busy for hours.