No one ever said parenting is easy, or maybe they did and I just didn’t fucking listen- i’ve been known to do that, or not to do that- whatever! The point is that parenting is tough. That’s truth talk right there. And i’m not talking about the late nights or the diaper changing or the rashes and the boogers, the blowouts and getting covered in pee more times than you’d care to count, panic and confusion from the parenting standpoint because they JUST DON’T MAKE SENSE, and of course, the feeling that you’re completely losing it that washes over you at least twice a week (if not once per day… or more. Whatever, no judging here)- as if ALL of that combined isn’t bad enough- I find those aren’t even the hardest parts comparatively to the childhood temperament changes that come meandering along with age (and by meandering I mean karate kicking down your door like Bruce Fucking Lee on acid).
When your child will become each different form of hell-spawn varies between kids, but I am holding on to the belief that ALL children, minus the ones being spoon fed benadryl under the table (which I do NOT suggest doing), experience each and every one eventually. I don’t care if i’m wrong or right, I will believe that i’m right because it tightens my loose grip on sanity just an ittybittybitty-bit- and at this point i’ll take what I can get.
As far as Holden goes, pretty much nothing he did was typical as far as “the order of which i’m going to fuck with you”– but even though he wasn’t like clockwork, he still has proven to go a normal typical assholey child in every way children are assholey.
There’s the NO! stage. Everything is NO! You tell them to stop saying no? They respond with NO! No no no no no no no- you thought YOU as a parent said “no” a lot? Psh. Wait until you have a kid who doesn’t want to do, or eat a fucking thing.
Somewhere before or after that is MINE! It’s MINE! That’s MINE! What you’re eating? It’s MINE! His toy, yeah, that stranger’s? That’s mine too! So is your dinner, your toothbrush, your money, the contents of your purse and your water bottle. I hope you weren’t planning on drinking out of that, because it’s MINE and so is are the floating particles of mouth discharge I left in it for you. I feel I must mark the territory of what is MINE.
|awww yeah, we all love
If you’re super-de-duper lucky, you run into the curse of the “I don’t wanna”s. Eat your dinner? I don’t wanna! Take a bath? I don’t’ wanna! Take a nap! Sometimes you get the compound: NO! I DON’T WANNA- that’s always lovely.
Sit your stinky fart-smelling ass on the toilet so you don’t shit your pants? I DON’T WANNA!
Even if you are just trying to help them not to get hurt, or make a complete mess of themselves (which will inevitably lead to tears)- they don’t wanna. And they’re not gonna without a fight. Good times, y’all. Good. Times.
Thrown somewhere in the middle of all of these wonderful lovely stages of childhood is anther round of NO- actually, scratch that, the NO never leaves. The NO is the constant throughout this mystifying journey of parenthood, so at least you know if there is NOTHING else that makes sense, you can expect a NO. Reassuring, isn’t it? I sure thought so.
Currently, in the land of Holden, we have hit an all-new unexpected stage of life. That’s not because I didn’t know this one existed, or thought “oh my kid is above every other kid, he’s so fucking awesome he shits rainbows and butterflies!”- but because all of the NOing and the MINEing and the I DON’T WANNAs, not just from him, but from both kids, sort of melted my cognitive memory and there’s only so much I can keep track of. It might help if I liked surprises, but y’know, I don’t.
Part of the blame for this wonderful new phrase I hear ring out into my house multiple times per day comes from Holden’s skippage of the terrible twos, and saving up of all of his assholey energy for the “HOLY FUCK FOURS” as I lovingly refer to them, and the other part of my blames nature. Good ol’ childhood nature.
Don’t get me wrong, Holden is a sweet and caring child, but when he loses his shit he LOSES HIS SHIT in an epic way. I live with the kid and it still surprises me, so when I saw him pout, throw his arms across his chest and exclaim in the most dramatic Scarlett O’hara voice “I’m never ever EVER doing that again!”
I almost couldn’t believe it. Did he REALLY just do that? Did he REALLY just say that? He’s four, not ten, and he already has a case of the Never-Evers? I didn’t expect this level of ‘tude to kick in until hormones and funky body hair did. Unfortunately, it has become his most-used saying- yes, GASP, even more than the trusted “NO”. I’m never ever playing that game AGAIN! I’m never ever going to play outside again! I AM NEVER EVER DOING THIS OR THAT OR THAT OR THIS EVER AGAIN BECAUSE YOU PUNISHED ME FOR BEING A SHITBRICK.
Can you tell it is my FAVORITE stage yet? Bestill my heart!
That with the NOs and the tantrums and everything else that goes into the every day life as a parent- and sometimes I wonder if i’m ever going to make it to those hormonal funky body hair appearing out of thin air years. It’s when you question your mortality (I kid, I kid) you realize something…
If you can’t beat’em, join’em- and that’s just what I did the last time a “never EVER” got thrown in my direction.
In my very best mature-adult-i’m-a-parent-and-therefore-should-rise-above-the-childish-nature-of-what-i’m-about-to-say voice, I responded:
“Well i’m just glad I NEVER EVER have to give birth to you again. Once was ENOUGH, and so is one of you.”
Yeah… he looked at me like I was on hallucinogenic drugs, but it felt pretty good.
Next up on the childhood assholey stages radar?
“That’s not fair”s , the “I wish I was never born”s, and the “But everyone else got one/is doing it!”
I can’t fucking WAIT!
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