Dear Diary …
As you know … I have two small children. And as anybody who’s raised children knows … they are the apple of your eye.
And sometimes that’s a sweet, delicious, beautiful apple that you love and cherish. And other days it’s a rotting hunk of fruit that fell off the tree, landed on the ground, got bruised all over, and has a big, gross, worm in the middle of it.
Because let’s just call it like it is … some days your kids straight up suck. Other days they are the light of your life and you just wanna :::squeeze em::: you love ‘em so much. Then other days you just want to leave them on the sidewalk with the bulk trash and start a new kidless life as a beach bum in Key West who drinks margaritas all day and rents surfboards to tourists.
Which day do you think I had yesterday?
Now it is true ... those are the days that truly test your skill as a parent because, Diary, I swear to you … I think sometimes kids say to themselves “I am going to misbehave until I get in trouble. Try to reason with me all you want … I’m still going to be an unreasonable little turd and getting punished is the only thing that will stop me.” That was both my kids yesterday.
My daughter just gets in these moods. Like right now she’s learning how to read. So we sit down with the books, sound out the words, and everything is fine. She works it out and bangs out a page in no time like a champ.
Other days … Like yesterday … She just decides “I’m gonna be a jerk” and she then refuses to do it right. The word was “crawl” … and instead of really even trying to sound it out, all she does is go …
Cuuuuuuhhhhhh … Crowbs? I dunno. Crowbs. That it?
No it is not crowbs … you know darn well crowbs isn’t a word! And it's not like this is an isolated incident, when she's in this mood, that's what you get on EVERY … SINGLE … WORD.
Duuuuuhhhh …. I don’t know.
DOG!!! The word is DOG!
But she knows that. And she knows she knows that. She’s just wants to be a stain.
Meanwhile my son ... he's just laying on the couch, yelling "Mickey Mouse! Want Mickey Mouse!"
OK fine ... I'll get you some Mickey Mouse. I call it up on the TV, and Diary, there are three different Mickey Mouse's. You can have regular Mickey Mouse Clubhouse ... You got Mickey Mouseketeers ... nd You got Mickey Christmas. That is the entire Mickey Mouse catalog of his life. Those are the things he knows. So it has gotta be one of those three.
So do you want Mickey Mouse Clubhouse? "No!"
Alright ... do you want Mickey Mouseketeers? "No!"
Alright Mickey Christmas then? "No!"
OK well that's it ... there's no others. "Want Mickey Mouse!"
There is no other Mickey Mouse! "Want Mickey Mouse! Not that one!"
I'm telling you ... I see it, and you see it too. They're doing it to me on purpose.
And also, where exactly do they learn to talk with their hand on their hip and have this “I have attitude” voice? Where does that voice come from? We are not a sassy black family from a sitcom … so where in real life does she pick this up? It's gotta be school. It's always school.
Oh and once the hand is on the hip … oh it’s all over with. The only way to stop her is to send her to her room.
“Well I was playing with it first”
Yes that’s fine … but now it’s your brother’s turn.
“But I was playing with it first.”
Yes … you made that point already.
“Well I was first”
Got to your room!
Yes ... exactly ... fine. You know, I used to have adult conversations with other grown adults. Now I just have this conversation 10 times a day.
Though I will say, I've at least grown to have appreciation for the small moments of these whole things. Like when kids have temper tantrums and you send them to their room ... The things that they yell from there that you can't even hear or understand are hilarious.
"I can'tya yakayou TAKE IT DOWN!"
Yup ... whatever you said! Stay up there for 45 minutes while Daddy catches up on "Walking Dead." Bye bye.
Hey it's a give and take. Some days they're great. Other days ... they're this.
But you know what helps? Drinking.
Now you know … kids don’t be like me … or whatever … and don’t drink TOO much. Just drink enough that you only fantasize about leaving them out with the bulk trash, and don’t actually follow thru.
OK … birth control class over.
Till next time Diary … I say … Goodbye