Last night Blue and I went to a hockey game � the Austin Ice Bats. The Ice Bats are a farm team for the Dallas Stars � so they�re a few steps down from NHL-level talent. Yet they�re a decent team and fun to watch � and for $13, you get three hours of entertainment.

There was a family directly behind us that illustrated to me how painfully awful some parents treat their children.

The family consisted of a mother, a father, a young (3-ish) girl and a young (6-ish) boy.

Both parents were, shall we say, extremely enthusiastic about the hockey team and its players. They liked to shout enlightened thoughts during the game, such as:

�Hey, you idiot! Learn how to shoot the puck!�
�We hate you, you idiot number 10! Go back wherever you came from!�
�Oh shit! We�ll never score if Smith is on the ice!�
�Do something with the puck, you goddamned morons!�
�Shoot it! Shoot it in the freakin� net!� (At which point I turned to Blue and said, �D�you think that every once in a while the players hear something like that and think, �Gee! We should try shooting the puck into the net!��)

Meanwhile, their 3- and 6-year old children were taking all this in. You wonder where bad behavior starts? Take a look at the parents.

As if that (loud) public behavior weren�t bad enough, they were ridiculously awful disciplinarians and spent a great deal of time verbally abusing their children.

The little girl was squirming around, oblivious to the game. (She�s three. My husband, who�s 43, has trouble following a hockey game.) She�d dart into the aisle and dangle herself on the handrail, trying to amuse herself. The mother wanted the child to �behave,� and would start screaming.

�Madison! Get off there!� (pause) �MADISON!� (pause) �MA-DI-SON MARTHA, GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE NOW OR I�LL SMACK YOU!� (child remains oblivious � mother yanks her back into the seat)

The little girl would stay still for a moment (which, come on, for a 3-year old is excellent), and then she�d start squirming around again.

�Madison! MADISON! Settle down. You�ve already pissed your father off so much he had to move. Now sit your ass down on the seat!� (*smack*)

And on and on.

Why didn�t the little girl listen? Well, when all you hear is shouting, you stop being able to differentiate the important stuff from the rest of the shit. And when you�re going to get smacked because you�re acting like a *gasp* little child, the punishment has no meaning.

It made me sad. It made me sad to think that this sweet little kid was living with such a monster of a mother � that the only influences she sees are angry, rude, obnoxious people. It makes me sad to think that her lot in life is cast � that she is destined to be just like her momma. That she will grow up thinking it�s okay to berate sports players, to scream obscenities in public, and to smack children just because they�re being children.

In other depressing news, we just found out that our niece (19 years old, GED, going to technical school to �become a dental assistant�) is pregnant with the child of her 31-year-old boyfriend. Said boyfriend already has a kid with his previous woman, and, while he has a job, he does not have a *good* job.

I learned of the pregnancy from my mother-in-law, and had to clamp my hand over my mouth to keep from saying, �If she doesn�t want it, we�ll take the baby!�

Sigh.

Why is it easy to get pregnant when you�re 19 years old and screwing up your life? Or when you�re a nasty, abusive woman with absolutely no manners and no business raising children?

Why is it so hard to get pregnant when you�re me?

I�m not perfect. I know that. I�m quick to judge. I�m a bit of a snob about some things. I�m slightly materialistic, but not across the board.

But I�m kind. I�m generous. I�m goofy. I love animals. I�m a nurse. I love taking care of people. I want to do good in the world. I�ve got a good sense of humor. I�m a good teacher. I�m smart. I have a husband that loves me and that I love very much. I go to church. I meditate. I exercise. I eat right. I hold doors open for people. I smile even when I don�t feel like it. I cry a lot, for both happy reasons and sad ones. I like to make people laugh. I rescue kittens from gutters. I love my parents.