Let's start with those of you who decided to spawn. When you come to me bitching and moaning about the fact that your little demon seed won't sleep, and I tell you how to rectify the situation, trust me when I tell you how to fix it. My kid had more trouble falling asleep on her own and caused me more sleepless and interrupted nights than I care to recall. I've made mistakes so you don't have to...learn from them. When I tell you that you probably shouldn't use your toddler's bed as a time out location, listen carefully. Demonizing the place you want them to enter calmly for an evening's restful slumber is probably the stupidest goddamn thing you can do. Yet, how many have you made this mistake? Now ask how many have come to me whining like a bitch? Maybe along with the power to commit the crazies, I should ask for permission to castrate the perpetually dumb as a box of rocks.
Moving on to those who request advice about behavior issues with your preschooler. Leaving out the fact that my own kid is now 17, and you'd have to imagine that I had some measure of success with her, how about we credit me with having been one of three teachers in a preschool classroom for almost 13 years? I'm not perfect, as we established in previous blogs, but holy shit, I have SOME knowledge of that age group beyond parenting that could prove useful to you. The mere fact that you asked implies that you trust my opinion, right? Yet, when I tell you that your child should be able to dress themselves and you can probably potty train them before high school, you ignore me and continue treating your little ankle-biter like an infant. I won't be there to hold his hand and wipe his tears when the kids in first grade point and laugh at his diaper.
When you send your brat off to big kid school, expect a host of problems. The amount of dysfunction you've caused at this point is almost irreparable. Yet, you are expecting that this emotionally stunted, fruit of your loins will be the valedictorian. As a matter of fact, you are prepared to do what it takes to have that happen. Sending Butt Nugget, Jr. to Kumon after school while you build the most elaborate science project creating a series circuit and measure voltage, current, and resistance at a college level does Junior no favors at all. But you will do this over and over again, until Junior is completely incapable of doing his own schoolwork and you are engaged in pissing contest after pissing contest with the other parents of kids in his class. That is what science projects are, in case you didn't know. Parental pissing wars. I know, because my husband and I are completely guilty of this crime. We learned the hard way, so you don't have to...again. Pay attention, shit brick.
Being in the high school phase of parenting, I'm still learning. However, I can guarantee you, I'm still better at it than you. Why is so, you ask? My greatness is pretty obvious, yet I can admit to each and every one of my fuck-ups, and you cannot. As a matter of fact, you think you are doing a spectacular job. This delusional sense of success always makes me scratch my head in confusion. Your kid is a fucking mess, and you rarely see it. I try to delicately mention what I've noticed, and you get a case of "not MY child" and I back off to watch the circus that is your family life unfold. You've already pitched the tent, now you've added the ass clown. The fact that you can't see a hickey on your own child's neck, but I can, speaks volumes about your awareness of what your child is capable. Why bother coming to me at all? I'm not an optometrist, I can't prescribe glasses for you to see the fucking obvious.
But wait, your questions do get even better. I absolutely live for the relationship questions! Watching the psycho ward you call a household implode on itself without benefit of burly guards carrying straight jackets and juicy, loaded syringes is sometimes the best entertainment I'll get that day. Right at the moment it gets unbearable for you, I get to hear the gory details. The entertainment value increases right then and there. You bitch and harp and whine and talk smack about your partner, I say partner because not everyone is married to their significant asshole. He doesn't remember birthdays, she doesn't cook, he doesn't listen, and she never shuts up. Yeah, rough life you have. If your only issues revolve around little incidentals that the other does wrong or not at all, listen carefully. Open your useless piehole and tell them what you need. Communication is crucial in any relationship you have, and this one being one of the most important ones you'll have, requires it to be present and effective. This does not mean I am telling you to run home and ream your partner a brand new bunghole over leaving the toilet seat up or not helping with the kids. Far from it. If you yell at me, the reaction you'll get will be less than tolerable and extremely unpleasant. And yes, that is the understatement of the year. But advice aplenty is what I have to give on this topic. I've been married for 20 years and consider myself loaded with fabulous info on the topic. You ask, I share...and you fucking ignore me and return a month or two later with the same exact complaint. Short of punching you in the heart, I am not sure what to do with you. Don't make me punch you in the heart.
Want to know how to deal with in-laws? Of course you do, you've asked me. Putting your household first and standing firm on decisions you've made are abso-fucking-lutely imperative when dealing with his or her family. This is because they still see your partner as their baby, and therefore, their property. You must smash this thinking to bits with a friggin jackhammer. If you allow this to continue for any length of time, you will always and forever be dealing with their opinions being thrust upon you, unsolicited and forcibly. Sadly, men have a harder time with this process than women. This is due to the unhealthy man/mommy relationship that has gone on for way too long and needs to stop NOW. Running to a parent with every minute little issue that crops up in your household is one of the biggest mistakes you can make, yet so many fall into that trap. Mommy can't make it better. What she can do is hold a long-assed grudge against your partner making visits from here on in painful for all involved. Ah hell, you won't listen to that either, so please remember not to cry to me about your rotten in-laws and how much you dread the holidays because you have to deal with the evil they spew forth. Here's a big fucking cup of "I told you so" for you to choke on, douche bucket.
If only you'd all appreciate the value of my advice and heed it the first time I dish it out. When I have to serve lukewarm leftovers repeatedly, they taste like day old shit and are generally undigestable. What I mean is this, when you don't listen to what I say, and follow my instructions, your situation becomes exponentially more fucked up. Then, when you come to me with the same bullshit and I repeat myself, you are already beyond help. You are the cause of your own dysfunction and I can't get inside that cavernous wasteland you call a head and make you see things my way...as much as I would love to make you less idiotic. So, the takeaway from my rant today is this, recognize that I am far superior to you as is evident by the amount of advice you solicit from me. This is why you need to listen to me and do as I say or for Christ's holy sake, don't ask at all! Are you friggin kidding me right now???
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