STRANGER THAN FICTION: CHILDREN'S UPBRINGING TOO HOT TO HANDLE

Lord help me, but I'm turning into the kind of single person parents hate.

You know how we are: Your child tears through a major department store like the proverbial bat out of hell, and we say, "Why do you let him do that? If he were mine. ..."

Then we come up with some sort of brilliant parenting tool that leaves actual parents staring at us in disgust.

But I just can't help it. Something deep inside of me makes me believe children of mine would be 50 times better than children of anyone else I know. I'd raise them with lots of my parents' philosophies. After all, none of their five kids are in jail -- yet.

At age 25, it's time to face cold, hard facts. I'm not cut out to be a parent unless, by the time I get pregnant, scientists have genetically engineered babies who don't emit any nasty substances from any parts of their bodies and can verbalize what's wrong with them.

At the rate I'm going, I'll be through "the change" before the scientists even get close.

My friend's two children, Ryan and Kimberly, keep me aware of my limitations, parent-wise. I help watch them every so often to remind me of my vow of celibacy.

Ryan is potty training. I've changed a diaper to two in my day, but that's been years ago. Diaper changing is nothing compared to potty training, when the child doesn't have a diaper on and you're forced to hover over him saying, "Do you have to potty? Are you sure? Remember, you're wearing big-boy pants!"

Ryan and Kimberly spent the night last week. They're little, day people, and I work evenings. So it was all the more pleasant at 6:30 a.m. when Ryan touched my face with wet "big-boy pants" to wake me up. Needless to say, he didn't have a dry night.

The kids went with me to the gym later that day. The gym has nursery service for $1 per kid, making it tempting to dress in sweats, drop the kids off and then leave to do some shopping.

Just kidding! I wouldn't do that. Really!

I warned the attendant that Ryan was potty training. No problem, she said.

About half an hour later, I saw Kimberly leading Ryan over to the free weights. An accident had occurred.

"What happened?" I asked, putting down a barbell.

"He said he had to potty, and then he did it," Kimberly explained matter-of-factly.

Ugh.

Of course, better days are coming. Ryan becomes more responsible every day.

Yep, I remember when my sister Shawn was potty training. I had a bunch of friends over to eat Doritos and listen to my new Air Supply cassette when a shriek came from the upstairs bathroom.

"Heiiidddiii! Wiiiiipe meeeeee!"

I ceased to appear cool.

Back on the childless-people-as-parental-advisers topic, my friend and I had a discussion about discipline the other day. He doesn't believe in spanking.

OK, everyone can agree that abuse is bad in any form, but this country has become obsessed with it. Parents can be turned in to law enforcement agencies completely anonymously, and these agencies have to check out complaints within 24 hours.

Innocent parents are left ashamed and baffled while the anonymous caller walks away without any repercussions. If someone is honestly concerned about a child's well-being, he should be able to attach his name to a complaint.

OK, I've stepped down. Back to my friend. I believe my children, should they be born, may be spanked, but not excessively and not in anger.

My friend says never. "You should reason with the child."

Have you ever attempted to reason with a 3-year-old? What a stupid idea.

You know, some people just shouldn't be parents.

~Heidi Nieland is a member of the Southeast Missourian news staff.