Warning: (I can’t find that word that means “caution” before or after writing something, to justify any misinterpretations by people who suck). I am at this very moment, high off of Percocet, patiently awaiting results to a CT-scan in the emergency room. I am therefore, not responsible for my writing. Bite me. Actually please don’t, I’m like in a lot of fucking pain. ‘ppreciate it.
I’m the worst person/mom ever when it comes to parenting advice. I admit it. The shit most parents stress and bald over, I literally just brush off of my shoulders. The shit no parent would ever do or say, I have done, said, bought the t-shirt, the coffee mug, and the keychain. The moms who are frowned upon for being fucking real by poser-moms who force themselves to be fake for the sake of their child’s “proper upbringing”…yea I’m one of those frowned upon moms. I’m gonna tell you those forbidden things about being a parent no parent finds appropriate, and I’m not going to care. Look up..right now just do it. Look up! Do you see that? It’s flying away….yea that’s the fuck I give. GONE. Boom.
The other day, I made a tandem Walmart stop (because if there’s a Walmart in my path, I’m going in) I see this clueless mother standing over her temporarily possessed child who is having an epic tantrum over that new toy he honestly believes is vital to his survival, and this mom, I mean she looks like a deer caught in headlights. She is mortified and turning every color of the rainbow from embarrassment, just standing there… allowing her child to control her. He’s all screaming at the top of his lungs holding the toy in his arms swinging it around like it’s a loaded gun ready to pop off. He pushes her at her thighs and screams even louder and then falls to the floor. I couldn’t help but to freeze in my tracks and watch. If only Walmart handed out popcorn at the door because honestly, some shit always goes down in there. But anyways…I mean, who gave birth here anyways? Who’s the parent? Why the fuck is that kid on the floor acting a fool? Pick his ass up, and take him home and teach him, it’s momma’s way or the highway! Punk. At that rate, this kid will be a gang banger and in juvenile hall by the time he hits second grade. Little shit.
- Spankin’- See first off, my fucking kids know better than to start a raucous in public. God help their tiny little souls. It just doesn’t happen and do you wanna know why? Because my children have been spanked and disciplined in public. Yes. Absolutely. I don’t honestly like my children to be physically disciplined but it’s just necessary sometimes be at home, or in a store with a bunch of whispering witnesses. Granted, it’s mostly their father who makes the moves, while I merrily go on about my shopping as if I have no idea who this psycho man and his demon children are, but still- it happens and I don’t say shit to him because someone has to be the bad cop sometimes and if it wasn’t for him, my kids would probably step all over us both. So what? You don’t spank your disrespectful ass kids when they laugh in your face for “taking away” their nintendos/tablets/phones, or when they act like spoiled brats in public places? I pity you. The fact is, we are living in a day and age where spanking and abuse have become two blurred lines. Spanking is not the fucking equivalent of abuse people. Get over your shit and off your high horses. Unfortunately, we live in a world where despite mass murders, people being decapitated just for breathing, and children killing children, it is still frowned upon for parents to actually discipline their kids. Like I’m taking control of my kids, so as to avoid them turning out to be one of those criminals. Wake up! The moral of point 1 is, If your child runs your life and you feel overwhelmed, guess what honey…that’s YOUR fault. Put your fucking foot down and let em’ know who’s boss. Like a boss. And drop the momma-mic. Own your kids. Or at least make sure the father does. Someone has to do it.
- Cursing. Don’t even get me fucking started. It’s obvious that this is just the person that I am. I have a potty mouth. It’s always been like this. It’s not gonna change. I’m a sarcastic asshole who says “fuck” at least 4 times in 2 sentences. More or fuckin’ less. LOL. Ever since I was pregnant with my first, people kept insisting I start training myself to filter my vocabulary for the sake of my children. WHAT THE FUCK?! Are you serious?! Listen. It’s literally this simple: I am the adult. I will NOT change my personality because I became a mother. I’m still me, and I am still the king of this house. My children have been adjusted to blend into my life because I was here first so to speak. Yes, their needs come first. Don’t confuse one thing with the other. I can curse all I want, and I do. They have been thoroughly taught that they CAN NOT under any circumstance, repeat what I say. They curse on demand, and with adult supervision and they know the difference between using certain words for play and out of anger. None of my kids have EVER repeated a bad word when they’re angry or emotional or at all in front of others. They are respectful children who say please, thank you, bless you, excuse me, and your welcome. And when one of our male friends playfully argues with my son, he is allowed to call him a “pussy bitch” to get it out of his system. The end.
- To the DEATH with technology: If there is one thing about this world that I single handedly detest with a passion, it is this age of technology addiction. It is an epidemic and it must be stopped. Stop allowing your fucking kids to spend their free time on I-pads and Nintendo systems. Stop allowing your 8 year olds to have social media accounts that you don’t bother managing for them. You have no idea that while you’re keeping them calm and distracted so you can get shit done around the house, what you’re actually doing is creating a fucking miniature schizophrenic sociopath serial killer with a hit list by the time middle school is over. Technology will be the death of the human race. My kids do not even own anything like this and I’m avoiding it for as long as possible. They go mudding, they have a trampoline and a playground, they have a puppy to run around with, and they are never stuck inside on a weekend. We do things on a budget: chuck-e-cheese, bike rides in the park or just picnic days, indoor bounce house play places, or just opening up the door to the backyard and letting them fuck shit up and get dirty. Let your kids play in dirt. Let them get cuts and bruises. Kids need an immune system for cyring out loud! Stop keeping your offspring in a fucking bubble away from the world. It’s no wonder so many kids are constantly sick and have social problems. YOU are the problem. Not your kid.
- Let them FAIL: My daughter has a spelling test every week in Kindergarten. Last week she failed miserably. She got like 5 correct, and 4 incorrect. When she came home, despite the fact that the test had a “U” for “unsatisfactory” and a sad face on it, she was super giddy and ecstatic to show me. ‘Look Mami! I did a great job again! I got 4 wrong, but I got 5 right. And 5 is BIGGER than 4 right!?’ Apologetically, I looked at her and explained that unfortunately, she did a bad job this time and that she needed to work harder for the next one. She was devastated because whenever she gets 100, we take her for a small “prize” at Walmart or the Dollar Tree but this time, she wasn’t getting anything. Kids need to understand what it means to fail, and to make things better for next time. I disagree for instance, with these sports leagues that give every single child a “participation” trophy at the end of a game, whether they win or lose. What are they learning by this? That no matter what, they are winners and deserve a trophy?? Life doesn’t fucking work that way. It’s a false lesson that they are trying to teach. We don’t get anything in life by putting minimal efforts towards our goals and then not achieving them as a result. We either succeed or we fail. We do not fail but still get rewarded. We fail. We hurt. We grieve. And we pick ourselves up and keep going because we want that trophy. We improve and we earn that trophy. I think it’s bullshit and needs to stop.
- Let them DANCE: I have a super close friend who’s son wants to dance. Like hip hop, not even ballet. He’s played soccer, basketball, you name it but he just want to dance! Needless to say, his sports fanatic father is just not coping very well with his son’s request. I feel like….if your SON wants to DANCE….let him fucking dance. There’s nothing like a man who has some moves on the dance floor! And if your daughter wants to play football….let her fucking play. There’s nothing like a woman who can handle herself! Why do we have to stereotype? Is it possible your son or daughter may end up gay? Very much so. Does that mean you should stop loving your kid or start treating them any different? Hell no. We have to understand that there are just some things we can’t control no matter how hard we try. Remember how those jack ass happy campers put Wednesday Adams in that cottage and forced her to watch “perky” videos for days? She smiled, and then went psychotic and burned down the whole camp. Some shit like that right? Well take that as a lesson from the Adams Family. If your kid is different, let them be. Embrace it and encourage them. This is the key to happiness people. Acceptance and self-love. Get over your phobias and stop having unreasonable expectations. It’s not healthy to force anything on a child, especially not a personality that just isn’t there. Again, you are creating a monster by doing such things.
- Cut the Bullshit: This is specifically for moms-to- be and I’ll make it short, sweet and to the point because this Percocet is swimming through my soul and I just want to get lost in a deep slumber and never return: Don’t ever purchase a wipie warmer, bottle warmer, pacifiers, or that one “blankie” or stuffed animal for that matter. Seriously. Why would you get a new born used to something they have no idea even exists? It’s a straight up inconvenience to have a small baby be used to warm wipies, warmer than room temperature milk, pacifiers they can’t function without, or a blankie that is infested with bacteria because the minute you wash it, they don’t want it anymore. What happens when you happen to be out and have no way of warming anything up and you have lost the 67th pacifier or nasty blankie which is the only thing that will now soothe this baby? Kids only want things that they have been formerly introduced to by us. If we never give them such things, they would never know to ask for them/be addicted to them. STOP creating a crackhead. Stop introcing addiction to your child’s life in even mild ways. I promise you they won’t die from lacking these stupidities.
Carry on then! Have a fabulous night. I’m off to medicine land. Where muscles are relaxed and minds are free of shit.
Unapologetically drugged but still yours,