Blog Fatigue in Bloom

A friend of mine on Facebook and in life who is also a mom raising a 3 year-old kiddo by herself (explained below) posted this on Facebook on Jan. 31. 2016.  I think it’s absolutely brilliant and necessary.  If you’ve ever been into a niche of blogs you likely picked up on common threads, thoughts, and trends.  The niche here is “Mommy Blogs,” written by moms (presumably) about their child rearing, parenting, advisory efforts and often make it appear to be simply easy.  And some of whom are very authentic.  Regardless, this post was timely in that we’re easily inundated with information we seek… My inbox is about 40% Unreads from blogs, sites, or apps I tried a few times and *might* revisit, shrug.

So… here ya go.

Why I’m Unsubscribing From All the Goddamned Mommy Blogs

For fucks sake.

After a day of taking my kid to the skating rink and bowling alley and celebrating the birthday of my best friend, I finally get my threenager to bed (at like 12AM, I shit you not) and I scroll through my Facebook bullshit only to find out that I’m…

…a douche bag…

Yep.

Those moms at home, those moms at work, the moms with 3, the preggers ones…it’s such a fucking kill joy. I’m doing it all wrong. Somehow, some way.

Being a parent.

Blows.

It blows sometimes. More than sometimes…

I’m a single mom of a 3 year old. There is no dad to take her every weekend. (Not a bad thing, he’s batshit crazy)…I’m the Saint and I’m the Asshole. 24 hours a day.

But for fucks sake…

It seems like there’s a constant reminder. A spotlight on the shit stew of parenthood.

So what?

Maybe you haven’t found the right wine. Or right friends. Or family.

Ok.

Get yer blog on.

But why am I fucking subscribing to this shit?!

I realize it’s written with the intent to let you know that you’re not alone, but…

For fucks sake.

This little asshole sleeping on the couch. The love of my life. Is really awesome. And in the little bit of free stupid browsing time I have, I don’t want to read about the negative shit.

I want to be reminded of the good shit (and there is enough of it to go viral)

So….

….You don’t wanna have a 3rd kid (I don’t care why, just don’t),
you don’t know if your kid is gonna be ok because he ate formula (he will), you’re afraid your kid will be weak because you co-sleep (my head strong a-hole 3 yr old proves NOPE. Hell nope.)….

I have a feeling we shared some pretty helpful and relevant shit back in the day. MORESO! I think we supported each other much more personally.

You want to relate?

Make a meal. Offer to babysit. Clean the house. Sit around and talk the shit out of parenting…there’s a lot to be shared.

But don’t post your negative bullshit online. Women don’t need that. Men don’t need that. And kids don’t need their parents fed that.

So I’m Unsubscribing.

I don’t want to hear about why you aren’t doing this or that. Or why you’re judging someone for doing this or that.

My little asshole is 3 and she can’t help it. Scientifically, her brain just can’t control the ups and downs. And she is bright, and funny, and gorgeous, and way more outgoing than I’ll ever want to be…she’s got a charisma that I can’t begin to describe.

Write more stories about that. Meet me in person to focus on that stuff.

We’re all doing the best we can. Did they wake up alive? Were you parenting out of love?

Good on ya.

That’s the manual we’re all searching for…

 

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I feel like there’s an innate ability to parent a child under the age of 1, basic care and feeding. Most people who have a baby can do that, unless they are warped in some way. Most of it is a game of getting the kid on a schedule of sleeping, eating, and playing so they develop eyesight, body control, and communication skills. Also, you can’t leave them alone with a gun or a violent-breed dog, which are about the same thing in cultures that see either a gun or a pit bull as a status symbol above having a child. Anybody can have a baby, but it takes about a week and a couple hundred dollars to get a gun or a pit bull. I’m not saying I’m doing all of this perfectly, but I’m sure as shit not letting people I know, and people you know, get away with being or raising narcissists.

Anyway… After the kid’s 1 they need boundaries. Not just a boundary of a baby-gate to keep them from barrel-rolling down the basement staircase. Nor a leash to keep them in peripheral view while Parent does some on-line gaming. No, I mean intellectual & behavioral boundaries. In other words, working to help the child understand why NO is not a bad thing. I have seen up-close the effect of no “No,” in people my age (sociopaths) and children (theirs and others), and it is about as unnerving as watching a pit bull gnaw at a loaded Glock .40cal.

 The first thing I noticed was a person’s whining. For the adults it was usually an issue in a restaurant where they equated a missing item on the menu with a personal attack. A guy I grew up with pulled this a few times, and the second time he did, I saw what he was doing… because he’s a cheap asshole who plays this game, and doesn’t realize he’s the flat tire on the fun bus. Here’s the ploy:

1)      Ask to modify a menu item by complicating the order (The cheeseburger, but with swiss instead of cheddar and an onion roll instead of regular and no pickles and medium-well).

2)      Keep talking while the server tries to read it back, to confuse the server or muddle the communication.

3)      Fries on the side, not on the plate.

4)      Act like it’s no big deal and be just oh-so-sweet about it.

So, by telling this server to greatly change a simple thing, they set the entire chain up for failure. And usually it’s a break at how the meat was cooked. The average person doesn’t know Medium-well from Medium, but this fuckpuddle would always eat half the burger then send it back for being under- or over-done, and ta-daaa!

We all have to wait while they make a new burger for this dick, and he gets his for free as an apology for upsetting a grown man over the hue of the center of his meat patty. The heavens nearly crumbled…

 As a child he got what he wanted by whining, because his parents had 4 other kids, and his whining was quickly shut-down/rewarded with the cookie, the toy, the shoes, the extra hour of TV, the 17”-rims on the new truck, and eventually the family landscaping business which he plowed into the ground after 4 months and zero work. Whining isn’t in his DNA (his brothers and sisters are talented, fun, hard-working people) but it is hardwired in at this point. He’s now divorced and bankrupt and it’s his parent’s fault for not helping him out of these jams, of course.

The last time I saw him he started to pull the prank, I told our server, “He’s fine, don’t listen to him, he’s just joking.” He got pissed at me and sat quietly staring at SportsCenter while the other 4 of us laughed and drank. That’s right…

HE POUTED LIKE A LITTLE KID. Later he told another friend I was a dick. Behind my back. Good.

Now, a friend’s kid is a spoiled little brat if ever I’ve seen one. As an only child, he is treated like THE only child. His deal is that if he’s told “No” he reverts to pouting (he’s almost 6) and whiiiines and starts to fake-cry. His parents let it roll for about 3min while the kid stews in his own stink and then eventually, while the kid is still in pout mode, his parents say “Ok, you can have this now.”

So the kid hasn’t detached Pouting from Reward. Maybe his mom & dad think they have instilled a clean break between the whining and the lesson, but all they’ve shown the kid is, “Hey, hang on to being rude and withdrawn and eventually you’ll get what you want. You don’t have to apologize or ask nicely. Just be stubborn.”

I know this because I’ve seen it happen a few times. One time he tried to take a toy from another kid, and I said “No, you have to ask nicely if you can play with the Ninja Monster PitBull Cannon.”

Then he cries and says he hates me, which I find a way to overcome. Then he sits right there and turns away and cries loudly, as if his fingernails were being chewed off by a bullet-powered Rottweiler.  Because of a “no,” and a reminder to mind our manners.

His dad swoops in, lest his child be scarred for life with such harsh discipline! After explaining to his dad what happened, his dad does the fatherly thing…

And asks the kid with the Ninja Cannon if his kid could play with it. Well of course the kid’s gonna give it up because a grown-up just asked him to. So not only did his dad miss the teachable moment, he killed the kid’s chance to build manners and a bridge to another kid. Double Middle Fingers, folks. But hey, at least his son quit crying, pouting, whining, or moving on towards growth. Yay.

It’s not easy to have your own boundaries, but it’s a basic need for most of us to keep our sanity. And it starts early. If we’re always told “No,” then we don’t think we’re worth anything and deserve nothing. If we’re never told “No” we don’t understand that some things must be earned, asked-for, or are just off-limits until further notice and some sweet talking and probably a bottle of wine.

But if somebody brings a loaded gun or chain-jerking pit bull into a Farmer’s Market, and nobody says “Hey, come on… This could get ugly, and it’s better safe than sorry,” and something terrible happens then either we have no market for these dipshits to come to, or we have boundaries that say “You have to stop here.  There are very sensitive people within.” 

A Sandwich Too Small

George Carlin once said a lot of dirty stuff you want to scream at people writing checks at a grocery store.  He also said “Women are crazy and men are stupid.  But women are crazy because men are stupid.”  Something like that.  I often see little bits & pieces, graphics here and there taking digs at how dumb or helpless men are.

I won’t defend all men.  I can’t.  A lot of men are dickheads.  A lot of men are also great people.  Some are incredibly normal and unnervingly personable with no explicit personality issues.  Some guys are complete sociopaths and should have died in a Jeep rollover a long time ago and had their organs go to save worthy lives.  Some guys, however, are good Men.

They have to get up and go to work every day to keep the lights on and bills paid for their family.  They do it with a song in their heart, even if somedays that song is “Necrophobic” by Slayer.  And they do it because they love their family.  On the way to work they burn an hour in the car.  On the way home they burn 75minutes and have to go to the store to get something for dinner because the loves of his life are at home, tired, sick and haven’t had the energy to get dinner together.  When he gets home he realizes he’s on patrol to get the kids bathed and in bed while his wife zones out on exhaustion and a chest cold she got from their daughter’s last play date. 

Oh wait, shit… he has to iron some shirts for work, too.  And fold the laundry and get another load going so the kids have stuff to wear for the rest of the week.  It’s only Tuesday.  The days run together.  Gotta get a sitter for Saturday night, too, so he can take his wife out for anything, even for just two hours of face time.  Did the bills get paid?  Better check the online bill payer.  Get that handled.  Kid’s lunches for tomorrow, check.  Kids bathed and in bed, check.  Shirts ironed, check.

Oh look… it’s 11:40pm.  Everybody is asleep except him, who was also up before everybody else today.  And everybody is asleep.  At home, in their beds, safe, and resting.  A good day.  Done.

And that’s part of the gig for the moment.  Handling a lot of shit.  And keeping schedules together.  And working and making money and trying to keep Life from digging her heels in and being a bitch, instead of a dance partner. 

He made the mortgage payment, car payment, insurance premium, kid’s lunches, doctor’s appointments, and read a couple stories to the kids.  He didn’t put together some wet-panty plaque to post on Pinterest about how hard life is.  He didn’t make a snarky Facebook update about how he’s running the show.  And no, he didn’t make a sandwich. 

Maybe tomorrow he’ll treat himself to a meal combo under $5 somewhere. 

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