Being a parent…. is weird. Every day we find ourselves doing and saying things we thought we’d never do or say, and NOT saying or doing the things we really want to say or do.
In what other life situation would you EVER find it necessary or even acceptable to tell another human being that Spongebob should not be put down their pants, that the dog’s tail is not a jumprope, or that they probably shouldn’t be calling broken branches on a tree “pricks” nor should they be having prick sword fights.
Only with kids! For lack of a better term, they’re really kind of…well… dumb. Dense. Not the brightest crayon in the box, one sandwich short of a picnic basket, would lose their heads if not attached to their necks, like talking to a wooden plank, some days wouldn’t know common sense if it bit them in the ass. I don’t want to say stupid- because I honestly do not believe any child to be stupid- not with how quick they can outsmart us or how fast they can steal the last bite of our dessert without us even noticing, or the fact that they seem to have better insight into the true meaning of life than we do in all of our years of experience, they’re just…hard headed. They’re just… ding-dongs. Not the kind you eat, but the kind you feel the strong urge to pop in the back of the head for doing ding-dong things like leaning all the way back in their chair after you’ve warned them 500 times not to do that because the damn thing is going to fall over, and OF COURSE, it falls over and you’re all “I told you so! Maybe now you’ve learned your lesson!” but they DIDN’T learn their lesson and they do that shit AGAIN and what you REALLY want to say is “STOP FUCKING DOING THAT SHIT YA DUM-DUM!” but you don’t. Or maybe you do. Sometimes you just can’t stop the thoughts from flying out of your mouth, but you try not to. At least a little.
It’s a tough position to be in, this whole parenthood deal, with the dumb ass things they do because their heads are so thick they can’t hear the RATIONAL LOGIC coming their way. We want to call them on their dumb shit without making them feel like a dumb shit. It’s an artform that isn’t easy to master, especially when they do shit as dumb as the shit they do!
That was a lot of dumbs and shits, but they all fit! And now I’m rhyming… do you see what this has done to me? AH! I CAN’T MAKE IT STOP!
When I woke up this morning, I took a whiff of the air around me and said to myself “Hm. I think this is going to be a good day!” and then I walked downstairs and realized that today is apparently a-hole day in my house and I missed the memo that went out informing everyone to take cover because it is the last week before school begins and the kids just realized that means they only have one more week to be a super douche about absolutely everything so they try to squeeze as much in to the last few days as humanly possible.
Definitely didn’t see that one coming. I’m a noob to this whole “summer break” thing though, cut me some slack!
I honestly cannot count how many times I have told Holden not to lay on the floor in between the dogs when they are wrestling/playing/being fucking douchepickles. I tell him not to because I value his pretty little face and his eyeballs and his eyesight and don’t want any of that to be damaged when it could so easily be avoided by, oh… I don’t know… NOT BEING ON THE FUCKING FLOOR IN BETWEEN THEM. He does it anyway. Every day. Multiple times per day. No matter how many times I say FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, STOP! I cannot comprehend why he refuses to just obey. JUST OBEY, DAMNIT!
That was my morning in a nutshell. And then I decided to make myself a nice cup of coffee, sit down on the couch, and do some seriously mindless internet surfing while the kids cracked out on Sesame Street. It’s my one little “break” of the day- the ONLY one. Today was the day Holden decided not to give me that break because he wanted to be down in between the dogs while they played. Again. Only THIS TIME, the clumsy puppy with the giant paws and therefore giant claws and the snaggly sharp little puppy teeth got him good. REALLY good. IN HIS NOSE.
Oh yes. Yes she did. There was blood. Lots of it. There goes my precious whine and cry free coffee time. Did I jump up in order to assist the child with the bleeding nostril from claws and paws that I told him to stay away from? No. No I did not. I made him go get his OWN damn tissue. When he brought it to me, I cleaned him up and then shoved the rest of it up his nose in order to clot the blood.
Holden, oohhhhhhh special Holden, in all of his over dramatic “poor poor me” cries and whines that were only due to his own dumbassness, comes over to me and says “Maaahhhhh-meeeeeeeeee! I think there’s something leaking down from my nose! The blood is leaking!” and because I prefer to keep blood off of my carpet and my couch, I craned forward to take a look at this leaking blood and I’m like “Holden. That’s drool. You’re drooling on yourself”
“Oh.” he says. And then he LICKS IT AWAY.
Do you know what he did then? Can you guess?? He got back down on the floor and got in between the dogs. With the tissue still hanging from his nose.
Take palm, firmly plant face in it.
I broke into a fit of hysterical laughter. What the hell else could I do? I couldn’t exactly say “THAT WAS THE DUMBEST FUCKING THING YOU HAVE EVER DONE!”- but I could think it. And I did. And I do most days. But I don’t say it- because that’s what being a parent is all about.