Discipline-shy pussy parents: a cautionary tale

This thread on bratfree may help breeders who may actually be PNB’s, but are fucked by today’s convoluted standards of child rearing. Nullipar-tay’s lifeguard job experience not only re-confirmed her decision on being CF, but I hope all you PNB’s in the same situation as rich moo help you understand that we CF aren’t evil, but want you to admit your humanity. And by that I mean being a parent doesn’t make you royalty, nor does it transform you into a Marvel superhero. Please help us help you.

Many years ago, I was a lifeguard at a public community center. I was the only adult lifeguard they had, so I ended up working during school hours. Homeschooling families would bring their kids in, especially in the winter when we’d cover the pool area with a ‘bubble’, making it indoors for the season..

Our community center was old, built in a poor community that got annexed by a very prestigious nearby city with their own PGA golf course next door. They had their own high-priced, snooty club for these stuck up famblees and their brats. But when moos got tired of the crowd, they’d come to our community center and ‘slum it’.

And I had one family I loathed with every bone in my body. I called them TSM’s – The Screaming Meanies. It was bleach-blonde, still trying to look 20 (and failing) moo, and her four trophies: a newly shat loaf (name unknown), a boy brat, James, (7?) and my least favorites, the two sisters: Madeline (4) and Caroline (6).

These were, to date, some of the worst behaved fucking children I’d ever had to deal with. The nightmare routine played out all spring and summer long. TSM Moo and her shitlings would come early, dragging in a sack of kinderspullen (and in the summer, we hardly had room for the visitors, much less toys), and the fighting would start immediately.

Moo would sometimes offer a weak, “James, stop. Madeline, stop.” But these fucking hellions (loaf excepted – it was usually pretty chill and locked into its carrier) infuriated me. They’d run around the edge of the pool, chasing each other, ignoring us when we’d whistle or tell them to stop. They couldn’t swim, but liked to haul ass down near the deep end of the pool.

Our pool was only 5.5 feet deep, and not olympic-sized. Not a huge pool. But James liked to try to knock or shove his sisters into the water, usually while mom was asleep working on her tan, or on her cellphone, turned away from where she should be watching them.

The lifeguard staff was forever shooting daggers at the entire family, or trying to keep the brats in line so nobody got hurt. I kept waiting for an accident to happen, but it never did. These kids often fought, violently, hitting, kicking, and spitting at each other.

And they did it to Moo, too. They’d kick her, hit her, spit on her or bite her on the few occasions where she’d actually try to discipline them. It was clearly too little, too late. She didn’t even bother anymore. Madeline was an ugly, nasty little troll of a she-brat, and she screamed and cried at the tops of her lungs whenever she wasn’t getting what she wanted (which was often). She had just the right pitch to make your brains scramble.

Caroline was a mean she-brat, who openly pointed at and made fun of overweight people, bullied her sister, and taunted her mom by purposefully doing the opposite of what her mom said, then sticking out her tongue and running away. Moo was in no shape to chase her.

James was a pint-sized tyrant who liked to get violent. Period. He was into pummeling his sisters, but would actually whine and cry whenever they attempted to defend themselves or reciprocate. Even when other families would stop and glare at Moo and her family from hell, she completely ignored them. She also ignored her kids during their screaming, wailing, violence, and dangerous antics. Like I said, hell on EARTH.

Winter came one year, and nobody was coming to the pool much, even though it was covered. I sat up on the lifeguard stand alone for hours, sometimes. But one day… to my horror and surprise… TSM fam comes dragging into the bubble, just as they had all summer long. I was alone with them. No other lifeguards or staff were anywhere near the structure. It was just me, and the family from hell.

They got into the area, plopped onto some deck chairs, and immediately, the kids started fighting. They were in the chairs behind me, behind my stand, so at least I could look forward at the pool and pretend not to see them. Sound really carries under that bubble, and Madeline was screaming bloody murder over something, and James was beating up on Caroline.

Moo was frustrated and sighing, weakly trying to tell them to stop. The kids hadn’t even gotten fully unpacked when the punching, kicking and wailing was in full force. I could see enough from the corner of my eye, and I did look over at Moo wearily, with a “really?” expression.

Moo threatened to take them all home, and the kids went running down to the far end of the pool area, near the deep end, of course. There, they carried on as per usual, cackling, fighting, crying and screaming. James and Caroline finally decided to swim, and they came back to the shallow end and got into the water.

Where they started fighting in the goddamned pool. I blew the whistle on them and told them ‘no way’. They got bored swimming soon after, and started running around the pool deck again and spitting at each other. Madeline ran after them, wailing because she wasn’t getting attention.

Moo was actually yelling at them, threatening them… Caroline stuck out her tongue, and they all went back to roughhousing. I wanted to nuke them all from orbit. The noise had reached a crescendo, they had started slapping each other, and Moo was still standing just behind my stand with loaf. She was close enough to me, that I could see that she was trying not to cry. Without thinking, I said to her quietly, “I would have gone insane by now.”

Moo was still trying not to cry. “I…I can’t get them to behave. No matter what I do… and in places like this, you can’t really punish them without someone reporting you to child services.” I knew what she really meant. Slowly, I turned around in my stand to look down to her. I removed my glasses, and said, dead-on: “…I don’t see anyone else here, and I’m certainly not going to say a word.”

Moo’s face went slack. She blinked at me, and nodded, almost in a trance. It wasn’t even 60 seconds before she was striding down the deck. That woman snatched James’ arm, jerking him towards her, and she lit his ass UP. The looks on the faces of all three brats was EPIC.

Their eyes were as wide as saucers, stunned, and after she beat James’ ass so hard the blows were echoing, she heaved him into a chair, and snapped up Caroline’s wrist. The girl was too shocked to think to move, and mom had her screaming from the ass whooping in two blows. Madeline saw what was coming and RAN, crying in terror. But Moo actually overtook her stumpy legs, and dragged the blonde brat across her knees in a chair, wailing on her ass as well.

“Now we’re going home!” Moo barked at them. “Pack your damn toys. NOW.” And the kids, all three crying, packed up the kinderspullen and started limping off to the bubble exit. The Moo walked over to pick up the carrier with the loaf, looked at me, and nodded. She didn’t come back on any of my shifts ever again.

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