There's too much going on in my head to really put down, but I can try.

All I can seem to do lately is say things wrong or do things wrong. Or just screw myself over. =\

This is not a pleasant experience for me.

And now my train of thought has derailed.

Nate, if you read this, send me a text or something, please?

So, I was trolling Xanga, as I am often wont to do, and I read a blog on Momaroo (don't judge me...the title was interesting) in regards to discipline of a child. In short, the mother and her husband were in Brooklyn and had taken their daughter with them shopping. Nearing the end of their day, they stopped at a restaurant to eat. The child, being tired, became fussy and after attempting to calm her down the mother took her outside, tried to calm her more, and when the child only screamed louder pinched her. The child stopped crying and they (I'm assuming) finished their meal in relative peace. How hard she pinched her daughter is not detailed. I doubt it was excessive, but I may be giving the woman too much credit.

Several of the comments were almost derogatory in nature, one even went so far as to say "shame on you" for pinching the girl and called the mother a "horrendous" parent.

Really? What the fuck. Now, I may have been brought up wrong (though I doubt it) but disciplining a child by giving them a sharp pinch is not really bad at all. I had my share of spankings and pinchings (not that they did any good, mind you) and they didn't cause any trouble to my growing up. In fact, I think I actually learned that certain behaviors were neither acceptable nor were they to be tolerated. Wow, could that possibly be the point of punishment?

In my opinion, and whether you agree or not, a parent should have the right to discipline their child. Y'know, teach them right from wrong? Coddling, which in my definition is not punishing improper behavior, and kowtowing, which is giving them whatever they want whenever they want it, is the unacceptable response on a parent's part. Giving a child what they want, when it isn't necessary to their health, life, or well-being, should only be done on a rewarding basis. If they follow the rules, and don't do things they aren't supposed to do, then BAM they get what they wanted; if they do as they please and it is improper behavior or what-have-you, then they lose privileges or get a nice sharp swat on their behind. As it should be.

I anticipate my children growing up in a society where one wrong look is going to get child services called on me. That's something else that really irks me. Since when has proper punishment of a child warranted punishment of a parent? Granted, if the child is being beaten with bigwheels or punched upside the head, then the child needs to be removed from the home and that "parent" should be shot dead, or at least quarantined. Frankly if that's how they're treating their children then who is to say they wouldn't treat adults like that? Though I'm nearly 100% certain most adults who treat their children in such a manner appear as decent upstanding citizens outside the home.

Child abuse. It's a topic I'm sure is in some way, shape, or form in everyone's minds. What is it? Is it purely when a child gets beaten because they breath too loud? Is it when a child is made to feel they're worthless? Is it both? I am fortunate to say I had good parents, and I was not abused as a child; unfortunately, I have known people who were not as lucky. At one time my mother was paid a visit from social services because they got the address wrong; the social worker was looking for evidence of child abuse where the children were literally being beaten with bigwheels. I've mentioned that twice, and I realize there might be someone out there who doesn't know what a bigwheel is. A bigwheel is one of those tricycle things that are generally made entirely of plastic and have one very large front wheel and the two back ones are much smaller (thus, bigwheel); the color scheme is usually yellow body with black wheels. In any case, the social worker found nothing in our home that indicated child abuse, even after interviewing Jeremy and I. Hm, I wonder why? Could it be because my mother didn't abuse us? I think so. As I said, I had my fair share of punishments. Deserved every last one of them, too. I didn't think that then, but looking back on it I know that without the spanking or pinch or without having been pinned down until I came out of the rage I was in I would not be as adjusted a person as I am today.

And I'm grateful.

What are your views on this? Should parents (and by parents, I only include the people with children that are provided for as best as able and properly raised) be disallowed from disciplining their children? Should children be allowed full reign in their parents' lives? Where is the proper line? What do you feel is child abuse?

Kirt reached up and brushed a stray hair out of Dawn's face. She smiled at the gentle gesture from behind a bloodstained visage. "That seems strange, you being so calm," she said.

"Well, it's over. I think we can afford to be calm." He took her hand and kissed her fingertips. "Don't you?"

Dawn smiled again, feeling a warmth spread from her almost lifeless hand. Her eyes panned the scene in front of them; the school was in ruins, flames leapt to kiss the stars. The rain tried in vain to douse the ever growing inferno. Just outside the reach of the heat, she was dying. She did not say anything, not wanting to ruin her last moments; but Kirt knew. He felt the blood oozing from her wounds as he carried her out of the broken carcass of the school. He felt how cold she was, and he heard how tired she was. He knew she was slipping away.

"Dawn. Dawn!" Kirt leaned in to give her a kiss, fiercely hoping she was not gone. "Dawn, please. Hang on just a little. Just a little longer. Don't leave just yet." The sirens. Kirt could hear the sirens blaring from the fire station downtown. "Do you hear that? They're coming, Dawn. They're coming and they'll get here just in time. Please, Dawn. Please."

She could hear him. Hear his voice becoming more desperate. More anxious with each second she did not respond. She tried to say, "I'm here." Tried to tell him, "I'm not going anywhere." Tried to say, "Shut up already. I'm just tired." But the words would not come. She could not make her mouth open. Breathing was becoming hard for her. Her eyes, already closed, became weights on her head. The wind shifted and brought a gust of smoke and heat from the gym, but she could barely feel it. The sirens she heard seemed to be drifting farther away, not coming closer. "Kirt, why are they going that way?"

"Dawn? What did you say?" All he had heard was a faint moan. The sirens were now blaring in his ear, the lights casting blinding redness across his face. "Dawn. They're here! Dawn!"

"Alright, son. Come here." A paramedic. That is all that registered in Kirt's mind. A paramedic.

"Help her! She's hurt! Help her, please!" Frantic, screaming, he was no use to either Dawn or the men and women who were there to rescue them.