They had two dogs, named Maggie and Sheba. They had two children, named Eva and Jackson. Actually, it could be that I’ve got the names of the dogs and the children mixed up, because they spoke to them in exactly the same way. Same tone of voice, same drill sergeant volume.
The dogs barked at everything. I don’t know what else they did but it was something undesirable because there was a constant refrain of
“NO! Sheba! NO!”
and
“NO! Maggie! MAGGIE! NO!”
The children didn’t bark but they hollered and yelled and screamed. One of them went to sleep bawling at 1030 and woke up bawling just before 0700. In between, they apparently did lots of things which merited
“NO! Eva! NOOOOO!”
and
“NO! Jackson! JACKSON! NO!”
It was unceasing and unnerving. After a while, we all just began to laugh because this was so bizarre.
The adults sounded frustrated and irritated but somehow, we could tell, that this was their version of normal. This was their reality. This wasn’t an unusual state for them; they spent their lives bellowing NO at their kids and their dogs.
We never heard any other command issued to the dogs, other than the NO. The dogs were never told what to do. Oh, except once, when they gave the dog a really simple command:
“Maggie, stay out of the forest please!!!!”
You can guess what followed that.
The children were also never given any tips on how to behave, or what to do. Imagine the stress on these children and dogs. It’s behaviour modification with only negative reinforcement: you know when you got it wrong, but you’re never sure if you’ve got it right.
I felt a momentary twinge of sympathy for this family. I wanted to tell them that it gets easier. We have camped with our kids every year since their birth. Frankly, those early times were insanely difficult for me. At night, I’d be wedged in a difficult position (one year on an air mattress which Roo got for me & which, I still think, was grounds for divorce), with parts of me sticking out of the sleeping bag & therefore courting frostbite, all because someone needed to nurse all night. If I moved, I woke up the baby, or the toddler squished behind me. Roo would inevitably start snoring and he’d be just out of arm’s reach so I couldn’t shove him to stop. I’d be looking for things to throw at him (like the axe) and slowly feel the whole world turning red and I’d be praying for a grizzly bear to make an appearance and just eat me because we were booked for two more nights of this pleasant hell.
Then during the day, I’d spend the entire time trying to keep children from toddling into the fire, playing with the axe, or wandering off into the forest. And that’s just before breakfast. After that, there was the ritual arguing about putting on sunscreen and bug repellent in preparation for the hike down to the beach.
Add a drive there and back with two young children who HATE the car and can make your brain explode and ooze out of your ears just by opening their mouths and telling you how much they HATE the car.
But each year it got better. This year I was trapped in a car with them for over 5 hours each way and at the end, I was the only one whining. They now start fires, and are encouraged to play with sharp knives. They can go swimming all by themselves, with me just checking in once in a while. They can fix themselves snacks, change clothes, do their own sunscreen (& suffer the consequences when they miss entire spots), and put themselves to bed. I can sit in a chair, staring at the lake, silent and completely oblivious to what’s happening around me.
I wanted to tell these parents it would get better. But then I thought, for these people, it probably won’t get better. How can it, given their current parenting (& dog-rearing) methods?
The campground quiet hours were from 10pm to 7am. Camping etiquette dictates that around 7am, people can start stirring and speaking in low voices. If you’re a demented fisherman or birder, you can get up earlier and silently sneak off to your perverse pleasures. If you’re a concert harmonica player, you could perhaps, and this is really stretching it but there you go, softly play some gentle wake up song for the benefit of the surrounding campers. Maybe around 7:30. And very quietly. Truth is, it’s beautiful country, gorgeous weather and we don’t want to miss the day so we probably would appreciate a gentle musical wakening.
But if you’re the parent of a 2 year old child, you don’t give him a harmonica at 7am and set him free.
The answer to that is NO, Jackson, NO, NO, NO.
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6 comments:
We took a trip across Canada last summer. 10 weeks, camping all the way, thousands of kilometers in the van, 8 and 10 year old kids, and it was wonderful. It gets soooo much better as they get older, but I agree, I can't see it getting better for your neighbours.
We stopped at a campground in Michigan (we headed into southern Ontario through the states, but came back north of Lake Superior) and had an experience like yours, but happily it was only one night.
A family with two smallish boys and one yappy little dog looked like they were camping for the very first time in an old, borrowed canvas tent that they had never set up before. Well...they never got it up at all--couldn't manage it. The dad kept yelling at everybody--wife, kids, dog, anyone who looked at him (and they were right by the biffies...everyone had to walk past!) Mom was in tears, the kids looked well practiced at dodging away from dad at his worst moments (and no, they didn't respond to "get over here now!") and yeah...it all looked like this was their version of normal. Like it wasn't really the fault of the unmanageable tent at all.
We thought about trying to help them, but they seemed rather unapproachable. We decided that the best thing we could do was take our children quietly over to the other side of the campground.
When the rain hit I think they retreated to thier car and tried to sleep there. In the early morning as we did our run to the biffies we saw a campsite that was deserted except for a sodden brown lump of canvas with poles and pegs sticking out at odd angles.
My only glimmer of hope for them was that they were actually trying: trying to spend time together as a family, away from the tv and video games; trying to camp; trying to get the tent up. Maybe they needed a whole lot of family counselling, but at least they were making an effort.
Elizabeth
Good for you both for seeing the positive side of the situation as it happened. So often in my case when I see situations like this my first reaction is to be annoyed and judgemental at the parents (to myself, of course). It isn't until later when I think about it that I see it from the other side and realize that I have been on the other side of that sort of situation.
My partner, Sage's mom is really good in situations like this. Very often her reaction to (for example) a parent yelling at their kid in a store is to gently offer the parent help. It isn't always welcome but it let's the parent know that others can see that the parent is in trouble and (if they don't take it as sarcasm) someone is actually wanting to help.
And I can definitely relate to the whole camping with young kids thing. We lived (basically camped) out in the woods from about 1999 to 2001 and while there were lots of advantages (far enough from roads that a 2yo can wander happily outside), there were also many other things that created stress like the wood stove. It was also made quite a bit more stressful just by the fact that we were so isolated and everything seemed to take on far more seriousness and importance than it would otherwise have.
Ah, camping with the little ones. Seriously funny, Hornblower!
The new masthead (?) looks great, too.
I had a similar experience this summer watching a young, obnoxious mother and her very confused 2 year old. "No" isn't always clear enough, even to a toddler.
As for camping, we've all been there and thank heavens it gets easier. We've had the neighbors from hell, too, who sounded like they were finally going to sleep (after spending the evening drinking beer and seeing how high they could make their campfire with the addition of various chemicals and fuels). And then, right through our camper walls, came the bedtime talk. Not sex, thank heavens, but "Who farted?" "I didn't fart." "You farted, didn't you, you hog." "No, I bet Kim farted." "Eww, Kim you stink."
AAAAAUUUGGGHHHH!!!!!
That is sadly a very funny story. I do feel badly for the kids. The dogs, well not so much. The parents, they get what they teach and that is not much good there. :(
Your writing style is wonderful. My husband and I are watching Hornblower. We just finished disc 6 which is Retribution. I almost bought one of the books a couple months back and didn't know if I would like it. Now I know I would have. I want my boys to know this story.
Very well then, carry on...
Oh, my...early camping trips are a little traumatic to remember...but I do enjoy camping now that no one eats dirt, everyone packs their own bag, and we don't need to bring a container for anyone (stroller, backpack, etc. etc.) But a harmonica at 7:00 a.m.? Yikes.
Diane
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