Say No To Save Lives. Don’t Let Your Kids Bully You Into Relaxing Social Distancing.

Parenting isn’t supposed to be easy. It’s supposed to be successful.

I remember joking to a friend that the job of a parent was to make rules, and the job of kids was to break them.

The stories of kids partying in bars and on beaches makes me think the kids have done a better job than parents.

Sure, I get outraged when I see the interviews on Twitter where the kids blow off the risk on spring break. They’re as ignorant as the virus. They don’t believe they will bring it back to their community and infect many others. And if they get sick? Whatever. They had a good time.

They haven’t read the recent reports that the virus is sending young people to ICUs on ventilators. Or, thanks to irresponsible politicians and leaders, maybe they don’t believe the news. Whatever.

Responsible adults Tweet their outrage. They leave self-righteous comments about denying them student loan forgiveness. They salivate as they envision the future — HR sticking those social media posts in their smug faces when they deny them good jobs.

If good jobs are ever on offer again.

I’m wondering about the lessons learned, though. I also saw a story about college kids of the same age in New York, setting up a system for aiding seniors afraid to leave their homes. They’re providing essential services such as shopping. Same demographic but totally different responses to the crisis.

What parallels can we draw?

I suspect it has something to do with the way their parents handled boundaries. I bet the group offering aid to seniors hated hearing “NO!” when they were growing up as much as the party-goers. I mean, kids are kids.

But behind the success of NO! in parenting is consistency.

It’s the hardest part of parenting. But it’s what makes boundaries work. If you establish the rule that No Means No, you’ve drawn a line in the sand.

Kids seem to come with a built-in tripwire that challenges NO and boundaries. But ultimate peace in a family comes when they enforce rules, no matter the battles required to win the war.

I recall my own childhood. I can see myself sitting next to my mother’s chair in the kitchen, bored out of my skull. My mother had said no to something I desperately wanted. A cookie in between meals, or a radio show that was not appropriate (olden days before TV). She was reading the paper, and I was on autopilot.

Can I, please, please, please?

She’d start out in her gentle, kind voice. “No, dear.”

But after I’d asked for the fifteenth time, she’d snap, “How many times do I have to tell you NO!?”

And then I’d sulk for a bit, and then plead, “Why can’t I?”

“Because I said so.”

But I was a badass at getting my way. I knew the tone of voice to get to her. I knew the moment I’d worn her down.

And, like clockwork, she’d throw down the paper in disgust and say, “Oh go on,” in a tone of voice that let me know how mad she was.

But I didn’t care. I got my way. Every damn time. Well, not every time. But often enough that it probably accounted for some troubles as I grew up.

Because I didn’t really win. When I got older, I’d have to learn boundaries anyway. We all do. And the longer we wait, the more painful the lesson.

Boundaries are how we learn to make good decisions.

It’s how we learn to say no, we’ve put enough on a credit card. Or, say no to that sexy guy we like but who also raises red flags. Or turn down the job that comes with a big salary and a schedule that will drive us into the grave.

When we see those kids partying while the rest of the world is avoiding contact to try to limit transmission of a deadly virus, are we learning the essential lesson of parenting?

I thank my lucky stars every day that I don’t have young kids during this horrible time.

I feel for parents who have to corral their energetic offspring and tell them no, they can’t have a play date with friends.

But what happens when their beloved child takes their job seriously and nags and begs and throws tantrums?

My mother gave in because she was down to her last nerve. She never lived on credit. She couldn’t foresee that maybe she wasn’t teaching me to say no to my own impulses, and the day would come when I’d have to learn to say no to myself because she hadn’t said no often enough.

Is that what happened to the parents of the spring breakers?

They never took boundaries seriously enough? They got sick of their sons and daughters begging for another cookie before dinner or to stay out a little later on a school night? They knew they should stick to their guns, but they were so tired of arguing with their kids. They just needed one minute of peace, for gods sake.

So, they said yes, okay. But just this once.

And they gave their kid the signal that if they nagged and whined and begged and behaved liked assholes, they’d get their way.

Little did the parents know their kids would take that behavior to the beaches of the Atlantic during a deadly pandemic and thumb their noses at a new strain of virus that doesn’t give a shit about boundaries, either.

The virus only follows the law of nature.

It needs a host. A mammal. As soon as it finds one, it starts replicating. If it kills the host in the process, no biggie. It will find another. Whatever.

The parents didn’t know their kids would party down. And when they arrived home, hungover and immune to the harsh criticisms of the adults on social media, but not immune to the virus, they could and no doubt would infect their community, perhaps their families. Maybe the kids wouldn’t get sick, wouldn’t even know they’d spread the disease to others.

But, with so much we don’t know about the virus, maybe the kids would get really sick, or the parents would, or the grandparents.

And everybody would blame the virus.

Because that’s how we’re handling it. Blaming everybody for the scourge of coronavirus. When the tiny organism is just doing its thing, trying to stay alive, just like the rest of us.

Just like me, actually. Because if I caught it, say because one of these party animals brought it to my community and passed it on to me, look what might happen. My local hospital could be overrun with cases, and my doctors would have to make a horrible decision.

They’d have to say, “We’re not going to treat Helen. She’s too old.”

The actuarial tables tell us I’m not worth it. They should put our resources into someone young, with his or her whole life ahead of them.

They’ll treat the young person, maybe the spring break celebrant who brought it back from Miami Beach to infect me. Not fair in the big picture, but hey. It makes sense, economically speaking. They’ll save that life with years of economic productivity ahead of them and let me go. I give you a laugh once in a while? The actuarial tables are like the virus. They don’t give a shit.

We don’t think of the big picture when our children are kicking and screaming and throwing tantrums on the floor, yelling, “I hate you,” because they want to stay up to watch another TV show, and you know it’s bedtime.

You just want peace and quiet, and saying yes will achieve that.

But at what price?

Are the parents of those college students asking themselves these questions as they watch the interviews with the tone-deaf kids? Are they asking themselves if they should have been tougher about boundaries? Or, are they blaming the virus for ruining their child’s fun?

The virus doesn’t care. But I’ll tell you this. If your child gives me the virus and my doctor has to make a horrific choice? I’ll care. My family and friends will care. And if I were your grandmother or mother, you would care. Maybe in the larger scheme of things, some would say my blood would be on your child’s hands, and probably yours, for not doing the job of creating and observing boundaries.

And if he or she has brought the virus home, possibly your blood too.

I used to hate this slogan, but now it means life and death. When your kids want to go out for a playdate or walk with friends during this time of social distancing and increasing enforced isolation. #Justsayno.

I know parenting is hard. I read these stories on social media of parents tearing their hair out because their kids are tired of being cooped at home. And we’re in the beginning stages.

But parenting is your job. Suppose a brain surgeon got tired of an operation and half-way through, threw up her hands and said enough. I’m down to my last nerve. I need a break. See you tomorrow.

We don’t think those annoying moments of just saying no over and over again have life and death implications until we realize they do.

Parenting isn’t about being your child’s friend and saying okay, you can go out this one time.

It’s about keeping them alive. It’s about being successful and teaching them to take care of themselves. It’s about the power of no. Every. Single. Damn. Time.

Lovingly, to be sure. But no just the same so they learn boundaries.

We don’t live in a bubble. What we do affects others. Whether it’s drinking responsibly, not driving buzzed, or keeping away from others when a dangerous virus is afoot.

We don’t live in a bubble. What we do affects others. Whether it’s drinking responsibly, not driving buzzed, or keeping away from others when a dangerous virus is afoot.

Stay safe, everybody. I want you all to survive. Even thick-headed kids who think they’re immune to the laws of nature. They’ll grow up one day, if they can live long enough, and pass on these lessons to the next generation of adorable lunkheads.

I’m an editor and writer on Medium with Top Writer status in several categories. I’m also an editor for the publication, Rogues Gallery. I’ve published 55 titles on Amazon and edit for private clients. If you’d like to hire me as your editor for fiction, non-fiction, or business writing, please contact me here. If you’d like to read more of my work on Medium, click here to sign up for my newsletter. I’ll make sure you don’t miss a word. Thank you for reading.