Sorry...but I'm not George Albert Smith

 

SO...we had this awesome lesson in Relief Society on Sunday about loving your neighbor as yourself.  It was taken from the teachings of George Albert Smith...and we learned about how he didn't have enmity for any other person...he loved everyone...he recognized that every other person he met was also a child of Heavenly Father and he should look at them as such.  All through the lesson I could only think about how I had just written a blog post about how much a hated people.  HA! 

Another interesting thing we talked about is how we shouldn't judge someone based on their appearance (you know, the unsightly tattoos or piercings...stuff like that).  This is something I can honestly say I do NOT have a problem with (although body odor is a whole new ballgame...I'm just sayin').  I have met enough unshaven, tattooed, heavily pierced or otherwise altered individuals that are absolutely AWESOME that I know better than to make those kinds of judgements.  (What a relief... Something I'm doing right...)

Overall, it was a good lesson and it got me thinking about how I really ought to do better.  I set a goal for myself to stop being so annoyed by other people.  Big mistake.  I even came home and told Patrick about how I had silently vowed to do better.  I think his response was somewhere along the lines of "what are you THINKING?" or "NOW you're in for it"...either response really would have been appropriate.  It was a little like praying for patience.

So here comes Monday...and off we go to my daughter's soccer game.  We got there about 15 minutes early and took a seat where there was an open space...unfortunately located right next to some of those stupid candy machines where you put in a quarter and get a dirty handful of faux M&Ms.  Within 60 seconds of sitting down a pair of little boys decided that banging, kicking, shaking and otherwise beating the crap out of this candy machine for two minutes would net them exactly ONE piece of filthy candy for free.  It would fall on the floor, they would pick it up and eat it and start this disturbing process all over again.  The machine was chained to the railing, but that wasn't going to stop them.  According to a man sitting close to us, this had been going on ever since their mother had walked away.  Someone close by asked them to stop but they didn't acknowledge.  A few minutes later, the mother reappeared.  Now in my rule book of perfect parenting (which I wrote, of course...ha ha) this is when the mother intervenes and stops the destruction.  Apparently she hadn't read this book, because she did exactly NOTHING....not even a half-hearted attempt to tell them to stop.  She glanced around at all the rest of us, rolled her eyes as though we were all riding in the same canoe, and stated plainly... "I give up."

What?!

My decision to be more kind and loving to those I cross paths with flew quickly out the window as I had the conversation of a lifetime in my head with this insane person.  I wanted to SCREAM at her..."You give up on what?  You never even started...you can't quit what you don't start!"  or how about... "Hey, lady, the actual definition of parenting is that there is no quitting!  You had them, now beat them into submission!"

After several more minutes of free dirty candy (I wanted to yell at the boys that they were stealing...and just because it was only one piece at a time it didn't make it any less wrong but I held my tongue) they moved on down the stairs to beat up the Coke machine.  That's when the mother of the year finally leaned over the railing and said, calmly and quietly, "boys, now you've gone too far."  Silly me...I thought they'd gone too far when they started. And her request got no response...I'm surprised they didn't topple the whole machine.  And she neve uttered another word about it.  In retrospect, I should have gotten out some quarters and bought all the candy.  That would have stopped them.  And I wouldn't have shared either.

Luckily their game ended and they finally left.  On their way out I wanted to call out "Good luck in prison!" because deep down inside I figure that's where they'll be in 10-15 years or so.

Lest anyone think I am an intolerant jerk that has forgotten what it's like to have little kids that are being out of control and annoying, I must add this:  It is not the out of control kid behavior that drives me nuts...I DO remember what that was like...and it's hard to be a parent of little kids that don't listen and do what they want and drive you totally crazy.  It's the PARENT that doesn't even make an attempt to stop the terrible behavior that really bugs me.  I know you can't always stop it, but you can TRY.  And I feel a lot of empathy for those mothers that DO try and have no success, because I've been that mother and it sucks.

I breathed a sigh of relief when they were gone, but alas, I sighed too quickly.  In came another mother with a whole gaggle of little kids.  She sat down the row a ways, but apparently a little bird had whispered in the kids' ears that I hadn't learned my lesson yet and they needed to sit behind me.  I got to spend the next 40 minutes being leaned on, leaned over, kicked, poked, and even received a fair dose of spittle on two separate occasions.  They screamed and stomped and got muddy boot prints all over the back of my sweatshirt while their mother pretended they didn't exist.  Patrick asked them nicely to back up and sit down but it was no use.  One look at me and he knew I'd been broken.  All I could muster by the time it was over was a low moan of "Get me out of here..."  Savannah was still putting her coat on as we revved the engine and peeled out of the parking lot.

And so here I sit...admitting defeat.  I am not George Albert Smith.  I don't have it in me to love everyone...Somewhere in this world is a person that can, but it isn't me.