I Hate Your Children

-- I'm working on a solo piece about confrontations and consequences.  Saying nasty things and standing by them.  It's called "Burn Every Bridge."  As someone whose been said to have burned lots of bridges in my life, I'd like to take on that idea.  Why are we scared of cutting ties, or rather, why do we feel every tie is worth keeping?  Could it be possible that some ties should be cut?  We're fine with getting rid of negative influences in our lives, but it seems like professionally we think we should hold on for dear life to everyone we come in contact with, and in the arts community especially.  What's with all this "we" business, by the way?  When did I become one of the "we" people?  Anyway, this is a monologue about someone cutting ties with an employer, but hopefully it taps into a little bit more.  Here's hoping. --

"I Hate Your Children"

It's not appropriate to say

I'm aware of that

That's not lost on me

I'm not a bad person

I wouldn't say I am

Anyway

I just...

I hate your children

I really do

I hate them

I hate watching them

They're obnoxious little assholes

Each and every one of them

Connor is a prick

Jessica is a bitch

And little Francesca

Is without a doubt

Going to grow up

To be a nasty little whore

I'm sorry

I'm so sorry

But then again

I'm not

Because I watch your children

I do

Not you

So I should have the right

I should have the right

To call it like I see it

And the way I see it

I'm raising your assholes

Your kids are horrible

Horrible

Horrible

Horrible little demons

And that's a fact

If it's any consolation

They're not the only assholes

I've watched

I've been a nanny

For about five years

And in that time

I've been the caretakers

Of nothing but assholes

Little toddler assholes

With piercing screams

And awful tempers

I have watched

What I firmly believe to be

Some of the most fucked up minds

Of the next generation

Have I watched serial killers?

Probably

Drug addicts?

Definitely

Future divorcees?

Oh yes

Ohhhhhhh yes

High-brow hookers?

Brainless trophy wives?

Abusive prison guards?

Yes

Yes

Yes

Those last three

Were your children

Mrs. Watts

This is not

Some version

Of The Nanny Diaries

In that movie

The parents were awful

And the kids suffered for it

But truth be told

I have always

Loved the parents

I've worked for

I wish

That growing up

I had

Such wonderful parents

You give your children everything

And they are destroying you for it

It's a tragedy

It's like Electra

It's like Oedipus

It's sad, really

I know

That in today's society

It's wrong

To point the finger at children

And say--

'You're mean'

'You're ugly'

'You're vulgar'

But why?

Why?

Why, I ask you

I beg of you

Why?

When adults do something

They're called those things

When children do the same thing

They're just being children

I say 'No!'

I say 'Bullshit!'

When a child

Takes a container of mustard

Squirts it all over a newly cleaned kitchen

And then rolls around in it

Like a hog in its own excrement

There is nothing childlike about that!

Being childlike is making snow angels

Not mustard stain angels!

Do you know what gets out mustard stain?

NOTHING

That's because mustard seed

Is used

To make yellow dye

So in other words

Your kitchen floor

Is now yellow

I hope you're happy with that

And who

May I ask

Puts carpet

IN THE FUCKING KITCHEN?

Are you insane?

You have children

You didn't give birth

To three museum curators

Who avoid touching things

You gave birth to vermin

Who like to change the color of things

Using common household objects

And various food products!

I'm sure you won't discipline your children

That's my job

Although short of electroshocking them

I'm not sure they can be stopped

I am not a violent person, Mrs. Watts

But I look at your little assholes

And I feel like they're almost daring me

Daring me to abuse them

And I want to

God, how I want to

Not in a traumatizing way

Just enough to make them fear me

You have no idea

How much

I want those little assholes

To fear me, Mrs. Watts

I want to see terror

In those smug little eyes

I want it more than anything

Today I had it

I've had kids smear poop on me

I've had kids call me a bitch

I've had kids throw kittens out of moving vehicles

Oh, I've had it all

But today I had HAD it

Between the mustard angel in the kitchen

The dead gerbil in my brand new purse

And catching Francesca eating my birth control pills

--Oh, she's fine.  She threw them all up. --

I have HAD IT

. . . . .

Do you know

That I wanted children

I wanted them

So badly

That's why I became a nanny

Because

Because I wanted to be ready

When I had my own children

I wanted to be the best Mom ever

I wanted to be prepared for anything

And now I am

I'm prepared to rip out my ovaries

And cast them into the nearest body of water

I knew

That children could be difficult

I assumed that they would be

I even guessed that they could be worse

That they could be assholes

I mean

Not as much so as the kids

I've watched over the years

But I was still of the opinion

That I could handle my own children

Then I found out something

Something that killed my confidence

That made me realize

I could never do what you've done

Mrs. Watts

I could never be a parent

If I weren't allowed

To feel the way I want to feel

About my parenting

I didn't know

That if I had a bad day

I could be looked down upon

That I could be judged

By my friends

By my parents

By MY nanny

I didn't know

That was part of the deal

I didn't know

That it's not okay

To call your kids assholes

I mean I did

But I assumed

That if they were

In fact

Being assholes

That you could say that

That you could say to them

STOP BEING ASSHOLES

But you can't

You can't

You just can't

And that's what's going to be a problem

That's what's stopping me

From accepting a marriage proposal

From a very lovely man

Just because I know he wants children

And I know now

That I don't

I don't want someone

Always having an opinion

About something so personal

Something that should be distinctly mine

That should begin and end with me

I don't want someone

Feeling like

They can have a say in that

Or even a stare in my general direction

The very idea

Infuriates me

Your children aren't mine

Mrs. Watts

So I'm allowed to tell you the truth

It's okay for me to say--

I hate your children

Even though it will mean

My imminent dismissal

And even though

It will mean

That I'll never work in this town again

I'm okay with that

I've come to terms with the fact

That I hate all children

And that I shouldn't be working with them

I just wish...

I wish I had been alive

When my parents had me

My father yelled

My mother gave cold shoulders

My father called me rude

My mother threatened me more than once

With all sorts of punishments

But they were good parents

They did their best

And maybe they screwed up

But they were allowed to

It was assumed

That they weren't perfect

And neither were their children

And now I'm expected to be perfect

And so are any kids I may have

And it just doesn't seem right

I hate your children, Mrs. Watts

I really do

But I don't hate you

And that's what I came here to tell you

I don't hate you

I love you very much

You've a great lady

And I hope that hearing that

In some insignificant way

Helps

The next time you get one of those stares

From whomever it may be

Maybe even your next nanny

Just know

That I admire you

Because I can leave those little assholes

But you can't

Thank you for showing me

That I can't have children

It broke my heart to find that out

But it would have been so much worse

To wind up like you

God help you, Mrs. Watts

I'll miss you