A Few Things I’d Like to Clear Up…
- You hear the word “kid” or “baby” and most likely have a sweet reaction, but the cold, hard fact is some kids are assholes. YOUR kid may just, in fact, be an asshole. Right now, one of mine is being one. Here’s the litmus test — did your kid just kick you in the shin and, when you asked him to apologize, spit in your face? Yep, he’s an asshole. But there’s hope, as some of the best people and great leaders of this nation were once assholes. True story.
- I’m relatively new to this whole parenting thing, but I’m not sure why everyone is in such a rush to potty train. Seriously, what’s so great about getting to your workout facility with a minute to spare to make the class you love to go to, only to have your kid look up at you and say, “Mommy, I’ve gotta go”? Always makes me long for the days when he could just pee in his diaper and be done with it. And who’s the genius who decided that wiping someone else’s ass is actually better than changing diapers? Because it ain’t. And if you decide to go on ass-wiping strike, you’ll become familiar with two words: skid marks.
- I don’t like “Mommy Groups”. I know that comes off sounding bitchy or antisocial, but it’s true. I’ve been in some and, while I think the ladies are quite lovely, I just don’t get why a bunch of women who only have kids in common feel the need to gather. “Hey, you had a baby come out of your vagina?” “Yep.” “Yeah, me too.” “Huh, isn’t that something.” I mean, how about “Moms Who Like to Drink”? Or “Moms Who Think Some Kids are Assholes?” Or “Moms Who Are Addicted to Words With Friends Because They’re Avoiding Housework and Cleaning Out the Diaper Bin That Smells Like a Porta Potty at a Spicy Food Convention”? Now those are some groups I could get behind.
- As long as I’m bitching, I have to admit one thing: I don’t like the beach. I know, I know, go ahead and gasp. It’s a shocking admission, especially for a SoCal resident. Now, I’m not saying that I didn’t love the beach when booze was allowed and I was single and I’d grab a trashy magazine and head down to read for hours while frying my skin with baby oil. No, not then. I don’t like the beach NOW, lugging all the kid shit and balls and SPF, which I always forget to put on until we’re there, and then my kid is like a piece of fly paper and everything on the beach sticks to him. And can someone do something about all that fucking sand?
- Okay, okay, this is the last one of this ilk, but I hate LegoLand. Most of my friends know this about me, but I feel like the worst mom ever because you could like throw a rock and hit it from my house. My kids are on to me now, and ask why I never take them to LegoLand and all the other kids go and blah, blah, blah. Tell them to add booze and I’ll consider it, Kid.
- Most people are shocked to hear this, as I come off as an extrovert, but I have major social anxiety and public speaking phobia to the max. For reals. Like humungo. If someone were to ask whether I’d like rather speak in front of a crowd of my peers or pierce my own labia with a rusty stapler, I’d choose the latter.
- I really am addicted to Words With Friends. I’ve tried to deny it in the past, but it’s a major stress reliever for me. I even play my current games (yeah, I said “games” with an “s”) in my head and, if the thought strikes me, I will even pull over while driving to send it off. Hey, at least I pull over. I’m an addict, not an asshole.
- Even I’m astounded by the depths of my nature nerdiness. We have so much to look at in our yard and, at any given time, I may be attempting to catch a frog or lizard in our backyard, or coax a butterfly into landing on my hand. I someday hope that I’ll live my life like Amy Adams from”Enchanted,” and tend to all my animals all day.
- I’m a foodie. I fucking love food. I work out so I can give into my love for it, and enjoy every minute of eating. I also distrust people who aren’t foodies. You eat food just to exist? You’re dead to me already. So just go ahead and eat your air, bitch. I like to surround myself with other foodies so we can go out to dinner and eat as though it’s our last meal and look at each other with our eyes rolling back in our heads and say, “Awwww yeah.” I’m also that mom at the kid birthday parties who hovers over the cupcake table, hoping to “help” take care of that last one…you know, to avoid waste and all.
That’s all for now, folks, but I’m sure I’ll add more as the thoughts strike me, or someone annoys the shit out of me and I need a place to vent.