I love concerts. And I never go to them because they’re so expensive. It really, really bums me out. Some people love the movies. Others, a sporting event. Me, I’d prefer a good concert.

So this year I decided that I WILL go to a concert. And that that concert would be Keith Urban, my favorite. He is a wicked good guitar player.

He isn’t coming to Grand Rapids this summer, but he is coming to Detroit. My sister Annie agreed to go with me so I had this plan to go, no matter the cost, etc.

I was soo excited. I mean, I was finally going to see Keith Urban. I was going to work extra hours at my extra job to make this happen. I watched Keith’s website for when tickets would go on sale.

Then I saw a “save the date” magnet on our fridge, marking our good friends’ wedding this summer. For August. August 2. The date of my date with Keith Urban.

WHY??? I wanted to curse my friends for choosing that date. But I fought the urge. Instead, I looked online for the next closest show. There is one in Chicago. Apparently they don’t update the Keith Urban site like they should because tickets have long-since been on sale for these shows. So the only seats left are extreme nosebleed seats. For $116 a pop.

Excuse me????

$116 to sit so far away I can’t even confirm if the man standing on the stage is actually Keith Urban? So far away that I can’t even see the guitar that he’s playing fiercely?

No thanks.

So now I am sitting in my office, fighting back the tears. I don’t often look forward to things because they usually don’t happen. At least, that’s my experience. JB tells me that I’m a Debby Downer because of this. Well, being a Debby Downer is a lot easier on one’s emotions than to be crushed by this kind of news!

Once our child is here, I will unfortunately find myself spending time in places with more parent/child combinations. Like the children’s clothing aisle of Kohl’s. Or the toy store. Or the children’s section of Barnes & Noble.

I am dreading this.

It has always irked me to see misguided parenting in action. It just grates at my nerves to see a parent try to reason with a child rather than give the child orders. I just want to scream, “You are a horrible parent!!!” But that’s not really what Jesus would do. And that would probably hurt the parent’s feelings a lot. I know—it’s not nice.

But I still think their actions are ridiculous.  

Poor parenting is not good for anyone. I think that these parents just look so old and defeated. They’re not happy, and neither are their kids (if you need examples, watch Super Nanny).

Case in point:

On Tuesday I stopped by the library to pick up some movies for JB. As I was checking them out, I heard a loud whail of despair coming from the kid’s section of the library. Who’s hurt? Did they fall? Did someone hit them???? I wondered. However, this was quickly followed by a mother’s pleading voice which confirmed that it was a bratty cry and not an injured cry.

Mother: No, you can only pick three books today. Which three do you want?
Undisciplined child, screaming: I WANT FOUR!!!
Mother: Come on, honey. Let’s pick three. 1, 2, 3.
UC: BUT I WANT FOUR BOOKS!! FOUR, FOUR, FOUR!! I DON’T WANT THREE!!!
Mother: more foolish pleading, getting her nowhere and driving the child crazy.
UC: More foolish screaming.

The mother was clearly not in her element. Here is my solution to this situation:

Me: Okay, let’s pick three books to take home.
My child: Piercing scream (note: my child would probably not carry on like this because I would never let them get this far.)
Me: What’s wrong?
Child: I WANT FOUR!!
Me: We can only take three today. Which ones do you want?
Child: I WANT FOUR!! FOUR, FOUR!!…etc.
Me: Listen, you get three books or you get ZERO. Which do you want?
Child: more foolish screaming
Me: Okay, that means zero. Time to go home.

The child would probably melt down. But I’d drag her out of there in no time with ZERO books. She made her choice. And next time we went to the library, when that poor old-looking haggard mother is back with her screaming child, my child and I would have a peaceful visit.

“Which three books do you want?” I’d ask. “These three,” my child would respond. Because my kid would remember who’s in charge and what happens when she pushes the limits. And she will be happier little girl, knowing that her mother is in charge and will take care of her, and she won't be living in a state of despair like that other little girl who always has to wonder who's in charge.

And I will grow old, looking fabulous and young like my mother and grandmother. I learned from them not to take crap from kids. They didn’t take it from me, and I think I turned out all right.