Monday, June 6, 2011

It's so easy, when you become a parent, to judge the way others parent their children. I try so hard not to do this, because everyone is different and has different parenting styles and really who am I to judge anyone? I'm not a perfect mom. I still have a lot to learn and still make mistakes, so how could I possibly tell someone else that they are doing it all wrong? This is the attitude I try to have, but sometimes there is just no way I can remain that righteous when I see a truly shitty parent.
I spotted said shitty parent at a Catfish Mustache show a few months ago. We played at an all ages bar/ restuarant and we were set to go on stage around 8pm. As we were loading all the equipment on stage a little kid came up and started talking to us. He was a really cute and polite little kid, same age as my daughter, 6 yrs. old. I thought it a bit odd at first that his parents would just let him come up on stage, but given that the set up of the place was slightly family oriented and it seemed his family was sitting right up front, I quickly dismissed the oddity.
Then we started playing our set and we were suprisingly joined by the little kid as he stood in between Eric and I and played air guitar throughout our songs. He was really getting into to it too, dancing around a bit and sporting a serious rock star face. It was a pretty cute scene, but I was concerned with his safety. He posed a distraction, because I was so worried that one of us might bump into him or that he would fall off stage or that his delicate, little ears would be damaged by the loud sounds booming all around us on stage. None of this seemed to be a concern for his parents, however, as he remained on stage with us through the entire 2 hour set. I didn't have the heart to make him get down off stage, because he was so polite and he made sure to stay out of the way and well, he wasn't my kid. This is where the judging comes in; I would never let my 6 yr old do this. I would at least make sure it was ok with the band first, before I let my kid dance around on stage the whole time. However, no adult came up to claim the kid, to check on him or anything of the sort. Did she have her back to the stage the whole time, I wondered?
I proceeded to help the guys get the gear off stage and help our friends in the next band bring their gear on stage. The whole time, the little guy was trying to help us as well. We let him carry a couple light weight things off the stage and each of us spent a little time just chatting with him. He said he was in kindergarten and he had school the next day. He really liked the guitar, but the drums were his favorite. I asked him if he needed to go check in with his mom and he said no. In fact, whenever I mentioned his mom, he appeared to be quite annoyed. It was evident that he didn't care to spend any time whatsoever with her and it certainly seemed like she didn't want to spend any time with him either.
As the night progressed, the other band went on stage and they were also joined by the six yr old. He spent the whole 3 hr set with them and he even hit on the drums a little during. Luckily, the drummer of that band is highly talented, not easily distracted and was very tolerant of the little guy. He let him hold a couple drum sticks and gave him a nod when it was time to hit the cymbal. I couldn't help but worry that he was going to get knocked in the head as the drummer jammed out on some of the heavier parts. He never got hurt, but I worried about it the whole time.
I convinced him to sit with me at the merch booth for a little while. We chatted and I shared some of my dinner with him. He seemed hungry and I don't think he had eaten anything the whole night. Poor little guy. I have to admit that he was a very good kid. He was super polite and seemed amazingly well-adjusted despite his mother's neglect.
At 1:30 in the morning we were set to leave and the little guy was still hanging out with us and his mother was nowhere to be found. We debated calling child services. His mother had been drinking all night long and we wondered how he was going to get home. I worried that some sicko might come up and steal the kid after we left. We were the only ones watching him and what was going to happen after we left? Who was going to watch him then? Surely, it wouldn't be his worthless mother. The only thing that reassured us, was the fact that his mother was an employee at the place and everyone working there seemed to know him and was aware of him. However, no one was really watching him except us. We had become the entertainment/ babysitters for the night. A couple of us convinced him to go hang out with his mom, because we had to leave. We didn't want him to be all by himself on the side of the bar that had a gate opening out into a dark, dismal street. None of us would leave until we saw that he was finally sitting at the table where his mom was, although she still seemed to be oblivious of his presence, her "boyfriend" was talking to him and he finally seemed "safe".
It was still hard for us to leave. We all felt like we should do something, but what exactly? I'm sure we didn't know the whole story, I guess, but still. I was heartbroken when we left. I was torn between bitching out his mom for being so neglectful and just calling child services. I think about that kid all the time. I wonder if he is ok. I wonder if his stupid mom still takes him to the bar on school nights. I wonder if he is safe. I still debate whether or not I should call child services in the area and let them know about the situation. I'm sure they would do a thorough investigation. I would adopt him if I could. If we play there again, I hope he is not there, being ignored by his parental unit. I won't be able to hold my tongue a second time. I'm still not sure if I did the right thing by holding my tongue the first time. I'm always going to wonder about him and hope that he is doing ok. Maybe one day I will be going to one of his concerts; he loved the stage so much. I can only hope that something positive like that comes out of such a heartbreaking situation.