Laura Loomer:  When the Childless Scold the Parents


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When our oldest son was a baby I boarded a flight with him so that his grandparents could enjoy him.  Fortunately, the flight was short.  But he did cry and scream the entire time.  Thankfully, the businessman seated next to me took it all in stride.  Parents... understand.   And barometric pressure changes can effect the ear canals of our small children.  

Those who do not have children scarcely understand what it means to raise a child.  Laura Loomer has never had the privilege of the following:

Caring for a son after the circumcision is performed by a Rabbi.  Although a Christian, our younger son experienced the aforementioned.  And when both sons were thirteen years of age, we opened our home to the men of our community to celebrate, provide guidance, and welcome our sons into the community of men.

Ms. Loomer has never had the privilege of taking a febrile child to the emergency room, and then return home to rock the fussy, hot mess for hours.

Never had the joy of having a child throw up down her neck, and worse yet, discover that the baby  learned how to finger paint in their crib with what they located in their britches.  We learn to be suspicious when things are unnaturally quiet.  Every child should receive a middle name of "mayhem".

She has never had the privilege of having a child announce on the way to school,  "Oh, Mom, you are supposed to bring a pumpkin pie today for our Fall Festival."   That announcement sent me scrambling to the grocery store after I dropped him off.

Ms. Loomer has never had the privilege of signing off on a report card which informs you that your child is practically a genius but the teacher thinks he is a reprehensible little bastard based on her scathing comments.

Never had the privilege of being told a child is "part goat" because he consumed all of the bright, little gold stars placed on his artwork;  or had the headmaster call to tattle that your son just called another boy "Chinese asshole" in the gym at the ripe age of five years old.  

We bring home that eight pound innocent-looking child and fourteen years later are backing them against the wall and saying, "Make my day!"  This is what parents do!

Every single bit of it (the good, the bad, and the ugly) is part and parcel of the privilege of raising children to adulthood. Finally, with delighted glee, we wave to them as they head off to university or into the greater world.  Like damn boomerangs, they keep coming back with their hands out.  This is also part of parenting.

And then there are individuals like Ms. Loomer : the inexperienced, narrow souls who come home to "rescue pets". 

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