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Hi everyone!

This week's post is about me ranting against something. Surprised? Well, you are going to be, after I tell you the bullshit I came across last week.
I met my lovely friend D with her baby daughter at a local Café/Deli with annexed kid's play area to catch up and have a cup of coffee while the little ones let out some steam.
D is the yummy-mummy by antonomasia (do you know what antonomasia means? Well, look it up, it's a good word to know! No, I didn't say euthanasia.... Seriously, look it up!!), she is a tall argentinian gal, sinewy, hair always shiny and groomed to perfection. A pleasure to be with.
My little Gabriel will probably end up marrying her daughter. I must have D as his mother in law.
Anyway, as I was saying, we were just chatting when we noticed the other woman in the room and her really (I mean REALLY) loud toddler.
The little one just wouldn't stop banging things, letting out high pitched screams and generally thrashing about the room.
He made Gabriel look as tame as a cactus.
The poor woman, which I will call by her initial V, couldn't stop apologising about the noise.
"Oh girl, don't worry about us... We're not english!" I just replied smiling.
Obviously, this very sarcastic pun, gave way to a very pleasant conversation between us and V. We found out that she is from Slovakia, married to an englishman and totally exasperated by her boisterous 18 month old son.
"Everywhere I go I get kicked out!" she said half smiling "People can be so mean when your child is a bit difficult....".
"I completely understand!" I empathised, remembering all my flights to Italy spent unsuccessfully trying to keep my son calm and quiet.
Just as I was saying these words, the owner of the Café came downstairs, a lady in her fifties, tanned and very stylish-looking.
"Is that your son?" she asked V
"Yes..." V replied with a feeble voice
"Well.... My other customers upstairs are complaining about the noise he is making.... Can you please control him?" she just went on to ask with utter nonchalance
It was at that moment that V flipped, going from friendly and polite young mum to satanic bitch from hell and beyond in 2 seconds...
She obviously was waiting for that extra little push to blurt out everything she had to keep inside:
"And what do you suggest I'd do? Do you prefer me smacking him into silence or shall I just lock him into the toilets for a while?" she was furious
"Madam, I am only asking you to....."
"DON'T YOU MADAM ME! He is only 18 months old! How am I supposed to make him reason and tell him that he is disturbing your customers upstairs? Are they even aware that you are making money also from parents bringing their kids here to play? I suggest YOU deal with them and you tell them that if they choose to have coffee in a place that has a kid's play area, the minimum they can expect is some noise...".
The lady was purple with embarrassment, she turned to look at us, but I simply raised both my eyebrows as if to say "What? I am not going to bark this time! She said it all perfectly...".
She returned upstairs shaking her head and mumbling something under her breath.
V carried on in her ranting
"Can you believe this crap? What do they want me to do? Sedate him? Just this morning we had our routine appointment with the health visitor... You won't believe what happened!!!" she carried on:
"Obviously, she insisted in entering the baby's nursery and he did not like it. She is a total stranger to him, and when she entered the room closing the door behind her, he started screaming and throwing things. She then had the audacity to tell me that OBVIOUSLY I had some problems as I was unable to 'manage' him... Can you believe the bullshit? How is an 18 months old child something to 'manage'? Who are these people?"
She ranted on:
"Imagine that one of my colleagues from work, a mexican girl, took her son to a routine health visitor's appointment to have him measured and weighed. They discovered by chance that he had a slight lump on one knee. After having him x-rayed, they found out that he had a hairline-fracture o the knee, something that he never, ever gave signs to be affected by. They also discovered that some of his ribs had hairline-fractures. My friend was totally shocked as she never noticed anything being wrong with her son, and she spends all her time with him.
To cut a long story short, the baby is now on foster care and my friend is going out of her mind cause they have deemed her and unsuitable parent. Bear in mind that a toddler can get a small fracture and you might never even know because, if he is not in pain, he wont tell you! She discovered all this by chance, during a routine visit, and now she has lost her son to the state.".
I was shocked.
Hours later, I had a chat about this with my sister in law, and she pointed out to me this rather upsetting article.
At this point there is a dichotomy I cannot digest.
Let me please remind you the tragic stories of Victoria Climbié and Baby P.
Two examples of how the utter incompetence of social workers and children's services have allowed these two innocents to die an excruciating death at the hands of OBVIOUS monsters. In a ridiculous turn of events, it
now seems that these state-run organisations are going from ignoring the OBVIOUS signs of child-abuse (ignoring them to the point of having me questioning THEIR sanity...), to initiating a witch-hunt at every opportunity.
Either way, they are STILL failing the children with their approximation by excess and their panic-driven policies....
With regards to my own experience dealing with state-run structures, I don't even trust my own health visitor anymore!
Imagine that, the last time I took G for a check-up, upon measuring his length, she found out that he had in fact 'shrunk' by 4 cm in a month!
Crazy bitch!
She even asked me in a reproachful tone "This cannot be! Who on earth took these measurements last month?"
"Erm... YOU DID!!". I just pointed out, trying to sound calm. Stupid woman thick as cement! Can you even recognise your own handwriting?
"Oh well.... This system is in fact complicated even for us..." she just said, without even blushing!
I intentionally omit the fact that she couldn't even spell my son's name properly, and in one page he would be called 'Garbiel', in the other 'Grabiel' or even 'Gabrielle', as if his penis did not matter. And I should trust such a character to determine wether I am indeed a good parent or not?
That's why if I want my son checked, I fork-out £3oo and pay for a private paediatrician.
Enough bullshit.
So, my point is, considering what state and society are doing in terms of children welfare, education standards and supportive attitude for new parents, the little ones should indeed get to scream as loud as they want.
I think they've earned the privilege and we, as parents, should join the fun.... I do... ;0)