Saturday, February 13, 2010

I'm Getting Old.

I should move to one of those "over 55" housing places when I'm old enough, because I'm turning into "You kids get off my lawn!" lady. We have a pack of kids in the neighborhood now. The girls aren't an issue, but we have a pack of little boys under 10 years old, and they roam around SCREAMING all day. Which, fine, better they're doing it outdoors than in, and obviously they have a lot of energy to burn off, and if they do it in the street (cul-de-sac streets here, no through traffic, little traffic at all) I would never complain.

But they play in people's yards. And by "people" I mean my yard. And by "play" I mean "run around screaming like they are being disemboweled, while waving sticks and leaving random things, like shoes and golf balls." And their screaming makes Murphy bark indignantly, because he can't see them but he can hear them In His Yard, and he does not hesitate to register his objections. I really don't want to be the "You kids get offa my lawn!!" lady, but seriously, WTF is going on here? They have 4 yards to play in and they are always on mine, and the yard that belongs to the two senior guys across the street.

I really am old, because I can't help thinking that "Back in my day" (way back in the ancient 80s, when my kids were little) "we taught our kids to play in their own yards!" And yes, I've spoken to at least two of the little turds angels (two are new faces) in the past and told them nicely but firmly not to play here, because it makes the dog(s) bark like maniacs, but apparently they have short memories. I don't know their parents, and I hate to introduce myself to them by bitching about their kids. I wish the controls for the sprinkler system were behind the fence, so I could just turn it on when they start shrieking outside my living room window. Le Sigh.

This has deteriorated into a Blah-g, and I apologize, but my days are full of not blog fodder lately. Layla needs to visit once a week.

As proof that I am Old, I have to confess that I haven't stayed awake to watch Saturday Night Live since Eddie Murphy was a new face. Apparently I should watch, because this freaking slayed me. (For the non-US readers: Rahm Emanuel is White House Chief of Staff, and known for his outspoken and profane language.) I'm thinking he must have enjoyed this if/when he saw it, because it's so dead-on, especially "What are you, FOURTEEN?" which is exactly what I thought at the time. Anyway, enjoy, and I promise an actual blog post that isn't full of "You kids get off my lawn!" crap tomorrow. ;-)


Anonymous said...

And I clearly remember being told the same thing back in the late 40's and early 50's, and telling my children (in the 'permissive' 60's!) to 'keep off', and explaining that 'no, you cannot play in Craig's yard when there is nobody at home'. Explaining about privacy, respect for other's property, all that boring old-fashioned stuff. Even the alien concept that not everyone enjoys listening to juvenile noise.

Wouldn't it be lovely to have the sprinkler system controlled by a remote! Just train Murphy to use it, he is definitely smart enough, the only thing that holds him back is the lack of opposable thumbs!

Mind you, here in Oz, that would attract the little so-and-so's. Running, jumping and squealing through the sprinkler - priceless if you are under 10.

Gae, in Callala Bay

Catherine said...

Here too, but not when it's 40 degrees F outside. On a day like today, it would chase the little boogers. ;-)

Anonymous said...

Forgot about the seasonal difference, there, for just a moment!

Mind you, when Erich was about 8 or so he LOVED riding his bike, or sliding on bare feet, or Belly-flopping, through any mud-wallow he could find. The following rule was developed: strip to swimmers, make yourself as messy as you like, hose yourself (cold water) off before entering the house, and then have a shower.

Erich was extraordinarily impervious to cold, and was happy to abide by the rules. And Sydney winters are relatively mild. I have a pic of the little horror, filthy beyond belief, grinning with bliss, with one second central incisor in the middle of a toothless gap - he could have eaten an apple through a tennis racquet.

Them's were the days, he is now a staid and respectable father of two, and nearly 44.

Gae, in Callala Bay

Catherine said...

We don't have mud. We have sand, and a variety of "lawn grass" that can cut you if you belly flop on it while wet.

k said...

Currently I'm suffering a plague of barking dogs. (I try not to think about the hellspawn next door. They stay in their yard.) The one out back is at least on a lead, behind a fence; the other is allowed to run loose, barking at anyone who dares walk on the sidewalk. I might be forced to call the police.