Thursday, September 1, 2016

Full Disclosure

Dear Stranger,

I write this as a gift to you. I keep running across these overly emotive literary pieces where mommies talk about the ways their kids light up their lives and give meaning to their existence. Or articles on the funny things little ones do that make our days complete. It’s enough to trick the childless masses into believing that life with kids is somehow better.

To that I say, #Lies.

Wanna know what they don’t tell you in those birthing classes: all the ways your parenting styles won’t matter AT ALL. Kids, for the most part, are just really bad, short people. And there’s nothing you can do about it. You can try all you want to instill morals and values. Won’t make a lick of difference though. Little Timmy is still gonna be a psycho when he grows up.  And somehow when he’s bathing in chocolate milk and stalking his 3rd ex-wife, people will magically find a way to blame you.

But listen up, I’m no longer buying into the hype. These kids came out messed up. There’s nothing I could do to change that.  They are strange and do everything in their power to suck the life out of me. Don’t believe me? Check this out.

Kids say the WORST things.
It is a well-established fact – and by ‘well established’ I mean I said it in public to two of my friends and neither refuted me – that kids have less self-control than a frat boy on a bender during Pledge Week. They say whatever comes to mind and they don’t care who’s around. Middle of Target, a crowded Electronics aisle during the Back to School rush, “Mommy, I smell fart.”

Do they care that the hottie behind the counter sees that your kid’s nose is directly next to your butt? No.  #Assholes (No pun intended.)

Kids confuse you in order to wear down your defenses.
My 6 year old sat at the breakfast table and yelled frustratingly until she had everyone’s attention this morning. When we finally looked up, she informed the table that she had a joke. “What did the banana say to the orange,” she asked. I refused to participate in her foolywang so she waited until the 4 year old responded. “He said,” she paused for effect, “’bananas…split!’” All 3 kids erupted into laughter for about two minutes.

Fact: That was not funny.

I know funny. I told a joke during bedtime yesterday about Hilary Clinton and Donald Trump at a Kanye concert, none of them laughed. I was almost upset, but then I realized what they were trying to do. Because sometimes you’ve gotta out think them. They’re trying to make me believe that I’m not hilarious just to break my spirit, dammit. Well that’s not going to happen, my toddler friends. I will not be defeated by your mind games.

Your home will never be the same.
Do you know what it’s like to rest your arm on the pillow next to you and feel dampness? Imagine that happening 10 times a day. I don’t know if they’re pissing on everything or just licking the furniture but things in rooms they haven’t been to in hours turn up wet. Months ago, I’d go walking alone into the grocery store and look down only to find that my boobs had started leaking and left circles on my t-shirt. Apparently, they don’t even have to be with me for stuff to get wet! It is the single most irritating feeling in the world.

And when you’re not soaked in saliva, you’re amazed at the amount of dirt they accumulate. I had a childless friend over once and she caught me brushing off the kitchen chairs as I cleaned. “Oh, that’s so cool. Are you letting them do an art project with the seats?” That’s not art, doggonit, those random colorful splotches are dinner. So basically, with children you can't have nice things or do normal activities.

Also, kids are mean.
I overheard my two older ones fighting about a dump truck that the boy wouldn’t let his sister use. I refused to go into the room to break it up because if they’re not looking right at me, I’d just assume they forget I’m at home. But sure enough, after the biggest one yelled out that her brother was being a “whiny baby” I began to hear approaching footsteps.

“I’m going to tell!” he cried.

I winced and tried to hide behind the refrigerator. “No, don’t! Come back,” she called after him.

Wait, what this? Were they going to solve a problem on their own? Would she actually apologize and be the bigger person without my direction? I held my breath as he retreated back toward her.

In an even, calm whisper she added, “I think you’re a BIG, FAT whiny baby.”

For shit’s sake! That was just cruel.

So no, I will not sit here and further spread the lie that the toddler-sympathetic media has attempted to pass off as truth. Your life will not be better with kids. Do everything you can to prevent the spread of children today. Take your birth control, stock up on condoms (the regular ones, not the ribbed ones – those are just weird, or so I’ve heard) or at the very least only have sex with people that have lots of money. This will ensure that any offspring that are created in your haste have the potential to be sent away to a safe, and well-supervised boarding school.

Help me, help you.

Your sister in the struggle,

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Playground rules apply: Speak the way you'd like to be spoken to and if you don't play nice, I'm kicking you off my monkey bars.