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UPDATE: Brooklyn Mom Dad/Party Host Arrested For Defending A Guest’s Honor At Prospect Park Birthday Party

“We were at the party. A child (girl 3yo) indeed went missing. She was there with her 6 yo sister. She went missing while handing out pizza slices close to the end of the party. After a few minutes her mother called 911 and cops came. In the meantime after about 15 minutes the girls was found at the other end of long meadow. Police arrived and first it was difficult to explain to the police that she was indeed found. While talking to the mother the police accused the mother of negligence. The hosting father got involved and it spinned out of control. Within short notice eight police cars arrived he got booked and taken away. It was not a pretty scene to see him thrown on street…. Quite a party….

Of course the mother was legally responsible. She went through hell in these minutes. She really didn’t need to be told – in that situation, right on the spot, moments after she was reunited with her daughter – that she has been negligent. She knew it. The police was called to help. After seeing this I will think twice asking police for help….

Not that it matters a bit, but the party included guests – think finance, lawyers – with easy access to lawyers. It will be interesting to see how this will work out.”

I happened upon this sign near the Garfield entrance in Prospect Park just before the park police pulled it down.

Wow, I am dying to know the back story on this one. Here’s the text again in case you can’t see it on the photo:

On June 4, 2011, a little girl went missing from a birthday party at this site around 11 am. Police arrived on scene after this little girl was safely located. Yet, police arrested a parent associated with the party after police accused the little girl’s mother of being negligent.

If you witnessed the police arrest of the parent, would you please be in touch the the parents’ attorney? We would like to collect statements, video, photos from parties who witnessed the police activity.

Please email lawDOTvickersATgmailDOTcom or call 617.945.4783

I’m pretty sure almost every birthday party I’ve ever thrown or attended in the park has featured kids free-roaming long meadow and surrounds.

Where is Lenore Skenazy when Park Slope needs her?

Shit, I could have been arrested at least 18 times by now for my kids’ park birthday parties alone. Fine, I haven’t lost any kids but not for the lack of parental neglect.

Just when I think the 78th can’t surpass themselves for a complete dearth of common sense, they manage to surprise me. If temporarily misplacing your kid at a Prospect Park birthday party can get you arrested, the the local jails are going to full of neglectful, quiche-eating, Sauvignon-Blanc-sipping Park Slope parents before the summer’s out.

Anybody know anything? The lawyer hasn’t answered my calls.

 

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She’s perfectly nice in real life but from her first FIPS rant, I have hated Bitchy Mom like poison.

It’s almost as profound as my irrational hatred of City Room’s Andy Newman and his tweets about his beloved hawk babies. As a bitch myself, I feel personally affronted because we have to maintain the bar (the proverbial one; not the literal one. Well, maybe that too). This broad lowers the tone, goddamn.

Even when I agree with the general premise, I feel disagreeable. To me, Bitchy Mom is just too much: too boorish, too unbearably judgy, too salacious AND too damn derivative to boot. Perhaps her worst sin of all is that she’s not very funny, just mean. She should be barred from using a photo of Nancy Botwin because she doesn’t deserve to be in her company, even if she is writing about Park Slope moms and their love of pot. I may have to light up one of my medicinal joints just to recover from writing this post.

Most of all, Bitchy Mom’s verbiage makes me “cray-cray.”

Words I never want to hear again: obvsies, totes, bitchez, probs, whatevs, shit-ay, preggers, resto (restaurant or rest of, depending), baber, bebe, bay-bay, Halloweenzies, oopsies, strollz (stroller) and so on and so forth.

I actually thought she didn’t exist for a while but was some imaginary alter-ego breeder cooked up by Erica over at FIPS. And yet, she has that incendiary appeal of Sarah Palin if she lived in greater Park Slope with her boyfriend and bebe.

Things other people have to say about BM:

  • Wow… you are the worst part of Fucked in Park Slope. I absolutely hate when you appear on my RSS feed.
  • Your opinions are beyond bitchy and move into uncharted realms of stupidity and self-involvement.
  • This writer’s style and observations are not up to the standards of this blog. Surely there’s a better writer out there to represent this point of view?
  • Wow. Chill with the language there, chick. Jesus.
  • Did you have to post that link? I’m going wash my eyes out with Clorox now.
  • A douchey, unfair, hyperbolic, poorly written and poorly reasoned post that no one likes because it’s not up to the usual standards of awesomeness that we come here to enjoy.
  • If you’re going to be a moron about this, at least get it straight.
  • This is a seriously lame and amateurish post. It’s honestly just bad writing and in poor taste and I’m actually someone who reads every post on this blog and cracks up at all of them, but you’ve managed to even offend me.
  • You’re stupid.
  • Lame, mean post. I’m all for Fucked, but not mean.
  • Bitchy Mom’s posts have consistently been over-reaching and trying too hard to sound, well, like Erica. Meh.

In fact, just about the only person who actually has anything nice to say about Bitchy Mom? Life coach/manny Anthony of Charismatic Kid who finds BM highlarious. Why am I not surprised?

And yet BM has moments of literary genius-ishness like some select good lines in her Weird Genderless Baby Killing My Buzz post:  ”fruit of their fucked up looms” and “At the tender ages of 5 and 2, Kio and Jazz (!?) are even more interested in gender studies than your now-lesbian college girlfriend” come to mind.

Because I’m a bitch and also I have nothing more urgent to report on this last day of freedom before school’s out for summer, I’ve decided to take an annotated look back at the selected works of Bitchy Mom.

BM’s inaugural post on the scourge (my word) of mini-bugaboos: Worthy subject but not well-executed.  Weird chip on shoulder against, uh, everybody. And poor proofreading skills.

So yesterday I took my kid to the park because I thought he could use a chance to run around after his escape into the bathroom wherein he stuck his hands up to his elbows in toilet water that still had pee in it.

So whatvever.

I went to that park on Berkeley between 4th and 5th Aves. Obvsies, I didn’t want to have to talk to any other moms, so I parked my stroller next to some nannies who i knew weren’t gonna even look at me let alone engange in conversation. One of the nannies’ toddlers had one of those little mini-strollers that they were pushing around. I swear, the sight of all those little kids pushing around those little strollers is enough to make me want to give it all up.

What is wrong with this kids in this neighborhood!? Even the babies are baby obsessed! Kids around here would rather push around a fucking stroller than play on a slide…I don’t get it!? But before I could properly process, I saw the horror of all motherfucking horrors: A MINI BUGABOO!!

This thing was being pushed around proudly all up and down the playground by some 3-year-old future overbearing mommy. I was so shocked and horrified, I needed to find out where someone could even buy one of these things, so I googled that shit the second I got home. And what I found was even more disturbing: some DIY HOW-TO GUIDE on Ohdeedoh on how to build your own mini goddamned Bugaboo.

GAG. ME.

Also, did you know the Danish word for END is SLUT. So like, there are hopscotch courses in Denmark and at the end it will just say SLUT. we should have that here. I know it doesn’t relate, but those parents need to be taught a lesson.

Middle-Aged MILF Breastfeeding In Public Post: Huh? This is not satire; this is a complex of some kind.

Dear Middle Aged MILF sitting next to me at the park:

Look, I breast feed too. I’m all for it. It’s great for the baby, less chance of your kid being fat later in life, WHATEV.  But you and I both know that the reason you have your boob out right now isn’t so that you can feed your what looks to be three year old. It’s so you can flash that hot dad over there a glimpse of your titties. Yeah, just lap it up. No one can judge you or call you a slut. EXCEPT ME!

I’m all for self righteous public breast feeding if the situation calls for it. A quiet corner of a public park? Fine. In the living room with a few good friends who don’t expect it? Hilarious. In a restaurant? FUCK NO. In front of a FILF daddy group? You’re a whore.

Wait what? Your kid is crying again five minutes later? Are you sure he isn’t just tired? Wants ice cream? Is upset cause that other kid took his water balloon?  NOPE, better whip out your boob again, just to make sure.

Also. While you might claim you are still breast feeding your kid so that he can get all those essential nutrients, I think you just want your boobs to stay that big. And girlfriend, I am right there with you. Breast is motherfucking (literally, duh) best.

Pregnant Lady Porn post. Most salacious and make-me-want-to-take-a-shower post ever.

If you’re preggers and wondering what batshit crazy thing to do today, recreate any one of these pics PUH-LEEZ. When I get accidentally knocked up (again) I’m going to force my husband (baby daddy) to pose with me JUST. LIKE. THIS:

Windsor Terrace Ballet Studio Goes Asshole (Vegan) post: When my mild distaste solidified into active dislike.

The Cynthia King Dance Studio on Prospect Ave is turning your kids into douche bags.

Cynthia, a former professional dancer, forces her students to wear cruelty free “vegan” shoes. This cray cray be-atch says that leather ballet slippers don’t “mesh with the beautiful passionate joy” she has for dancing.”

BARF.

You guys, I’M WORRIED. Does Cynthia have a sweat shop full of little tutu-wearing kids sewing silk to hardened tofu or woven wheat grass? OH WAIT, did I say tutu? My bad –– that shit ain’t allowed at Cynthia’s studio. Her students are required to wear leotards and tights only. Any kid that shows up different has to GTFO.

Don’t worry, things get whacker: Cynthia’s studio is decorated with elaborate costumes that dangle from the ceiling above the innocent children dancing below (souvenirs of former victims?)

Cynth explains, “I didn’t come from a normal, peaceful, fairy-tale life.”

OMG. BLACK SWAN ALERT.

Okay, I think I’m done.

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Good news for all you kid and rich people haters!

Any day now, you’re going to have the sidewalks, burger joints and bars of Brooklyn to yourself again. I know you are breathless in anticipation because, yes, it’s almost time for the annual exodus of affluent breeders and people with cars. We may say we love summer in the city but anybody who can will be jumping off this sinking ship like… Bruce Ratner and his rats.

Before you start hating me too much for my summer plans at my palatial summer estate, I just want you to know that I will never be able to afford to travel further than Sullivan County, NY again. Ever.

But while I’m poolside with Norman (who donned an extra small speedo this weekend in honor of gay pride this weekend) and my kid (who spent an hour on the pool jet, having discovered its joys when placed strategically), YOU lucky Brooklynites will have the joint to yourselves.

Let’s take a moment, shall we, to discuss all the great shit that I’m going to be missing out on in our great city this summer…

Okay, that’s all I’ve got at the mo’. Weigh in with your top five on what makes summer in the city so great.

And as an added bonus, I’m sending you off with my two new favorite road trip shots, which I came upon while malingering on this post for longer than was strictly required…

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Looking for a new challenge for your kids this summer? A chance to get off the couch and make something of themselves? Well, there’s a new game in town for kids aged 3 through 13: life coaching with Anthony of Charismatic Kids. Yes, that’s right. And he’s based in our very own hotbed of kids in need of confidence-building and charisma training: Park Slope, Brooklyn.

I thought we had it all but I was wrong.

On Wednesday, FIPS wrote a post about a new city-wide POP-UP PIANO PROJECT including two located nearby, at Grand Army Plaza and the Prospect Park Carousel.

Which led to this exchange.

Which got my favorite tipster, Go Go, wondering: who the f*ck is THE CHARISMATIC KID?

Having an inkling that this might be good and with more time to burn than Capitalist Tool JakeTaylor, Go Go googled and came upon a treasure trove of videotaped advice on child-rearing and parenting with titles like “What is Supernanny Doing Wrong?” and “Unconditional Parenting vs. Organic Parenting.”

The dude has a book and a $499 ten-week private course during which you can expect…

For an entire semester, we come to your neighborhood and give your child a boost in top-notch superhuman life skills. Whether it’s teaching social skills and confidencecultivating successful entrepreneurial traitsemotional discipline training, we do it all.

But this program isn’t just made for your kids, we teach you how to consistently impart these skills onto your children each and every day.

Two hours of intense life coaching each week for two and a half months straight. At the end of the semester, we provide you with a detailed report of exercises given, progress over the past ten weeks, and how to continue to teach these skills throughout your child’s life.

We used to call it baby-sitting, I think. But this manny has raised the bar.

So I just emailed asking about whether he’d want to give my family a test run in exchange for all this good advertising he’s going to get.

“I’d like to send my two kids to you for a morning or afternoon of life coaching and do an interview wherein you coach me out of my bad ways. My daughter is 8 and my son is 13. I am the epitome of everything you condemn: disorganized, uninspired, willing to let my kids clock unconscionable numbers of hours on electronica so I can get shit done. Also, what are your usual rates?”

I can’t wait… because Anthony is a member of the Child Life Council. I don’t know what that is but I’m going to go check. Later. Also, “he is an Adult Life Coach, a Social Skills and Confidence Expert, a Children’s Gym Teacher, Karate Teacher, Sports Coach, and a Manny. He has more knowledge on teaching self-esteem and conversation to parents and children than anyone in the world.”

I kid you not. This guy’s either completely bonkers or a marketing genius or possibly both.

I’m still waiting on a response. I forgot to put in a subject line. Maybe that’s why. Or he’s busy coaching. Anyway, I’ll let you know how it goes. Also, if you’ve been coached by Anthony, please report in.

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Still looking for the perfect gift to show your love of daddy this weekend? Well, boy oh boy, do I have the must-get gift for you… The Art of Roughhousing: Good Old-Fashioned Horseplay and Why Every Kid Needs It.

Here’s a sneak peak:

Complete with ultra-simple diagrams for a safe “raucous pillow fight” or round of “human cannonball, The Art of Roughhousing is a manual: filled with cool moves, techniques, games, and roughhousing ideas—with easy-to-follow instructions and illustrations. There are old favorites, like airplane, and new ones, like Rogue Dumbo and Crane.

In direct correlation to how much I loved everything about Go The F*ck To Sleep, I hate the shit out of this book.

From an Associated Press article making the rounds:

Each activity in the guide is accompanied by a ’50s-style visual aid and written in an easy-to-follow format offering the ages of kids it can benefit, the level of difficulty and the essential skills it offers.

Take the Raucous Pillow Fight. Such a thing is good for children 4 and up. Its difficulty is “easy” and it teaches “losing and winning.” The best pillows for whacking are the big, fluffy kind rather than the small, hard sofa kind.

“When battling your opponent,” the book cautions, “always hold the zippered part of the pillow and whack with the other end to prevent injuries like eyeball lacerations.” CHECK!

Are you fucking kidding me?

What self-respecting parent needs a manual to figure out how to get close and playful with your kid(s)? The book is apparently written for a new genre of completely incompetent, metrosexual and yet helicoptering parent.

The authors lecture about how roughhousing ”flows with spontaneity, improvisation and joy,” but — done right — requires mattresses be hauled out or couch cushions laid on the floor so kids as young as 3 can jump safely from on high.”

Over at the NY Times today, Lisa Belkin conducts what must be the worst-ever Q&A for this dumbest-ever parenting manual. I think she should have her blogging rights revoked for these questions…

  • What do you mean by “roughhousing”?
  • This is a dad thing, right?
  • Isn’t “rough” automatically “bad”? I mean, it’s only fun until someone loses an eye…?
  • There are benefits? Like what?
  • Your book actually teaches the “art” of roughhousing. What kinds of moves do you include?
  • Why do we need roughhousing manuals and workshops, doesn’t it come naturally? (FINALLY the question on everyone’s lips!!! But no follow-up.)

Alright!

First off, I hate these fucking assholes.

Secondly, I want to throw up on this book.

And, in summation, I may hold a book burning. 

Anybody in?

 

 

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ewwwww

Are DILFs the four-leaf clovers of greater Park Slope?

I heard that when @effedparkslope and @amysohn went on a hunt recently, with Amy contending there would be dozens, they saw ONE! And that was iffy.

My friend Karen says she knows two but I’m not going to believe it until I see the documentation. And one’s a model/actor so I say that shouldn’t really count.

If I had the energy, I’d go down to Brooklyn Boulders because, really, that’s our best hope. If you know one, show me. Bring on your DILFs. I want some evidence that they exist (aside from my manly man)!

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Now that I’ve broken up with those narcissistic child haters over at F’d In Park Slope, I’ve decided to start a new neighborhood parenting association, which I’m thinking of calling Babies in Bars. Never mind that I haven’t been to a bar at night since Dorian’s in 1989. Fine, that’s a lie but it’s been a while. Or, that I can’t hold my liquor any better than this future academy-award winning (or posssibly drunk) viral video star. Parents need a drink way worse than you adult children!

It’s long been my contention that there’s a little disconnect between those who would like to bring your pampered pooches to the next Bocci tourney at Union Hall but who would deny the put-upon, sleep-deprived, hard-working breeders of Brooklyn the same privilege. Need I remind you people that we are raising your future,  the ones that are going to pay for YOUR FUCKING SOCIAL SECURITY (should it not be eliminated before then). Is it too much to ask for a little consideration for us, our bugaboos, and our sweet-cheeked little schmunchkins.

Babies In Bars will be there for you, promoting joint custodial arrangements whereby parents in need of a drink and some adult(ish) company can hit the bars at happy hour but promising to depart before 7pm. What’s the big deal, anyway? It’s not like anybody would actually give a drink to a toddler, right?

If you feel similarly, please consider joining my cause and staging a sit-in at the Double Windsor and all the other gin joints round these parts this coming Friday at 5pm (maybe 3:30 if you want to head straight from pickup). I won’t be there but I support you, people. In principle, anyway.

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I don’t know, it’s a close one.

For the moment, I will give it to new people parents because there are more of us and puppies ARE so cute. But “barely” as my friend Jamie put it. Because, shit, the dog owners of Park Slope (even the ones who are famously intolerant of kids and their annoying parents) are giving the BREEDERS of humans some serious competition in the helicopter parent stakes.

Do I need to get in touch with Free Range Kids lady about branching out into Free Range Canines advice?

 

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