I recently read The Anti Parenting Guide to Raising an Inappropriate Child over on A Buick in the Land of Lexus. I think it’s my new favorite blog at the moment — it’s like there’s another lady parent out there who just gets me.
Before I get too mushy I’ll get to the point: the post was hilarious and I loved it and needed to respond, so I started typing up a comment, point by point.
Around number 3 I realized I would be CRAZY to leave such an obnoxiously long comment, so I decided to make my own post! You really need to read The Anti Parenting Guide to understand where this nonsense is coming from, so please go over and show The Mighty Buick some love. (And yeah, I’m pretty sure her name is Samara, because of her blog’s web address and all, but we’re not really on a first name basis [yet] so I’m sticking to calling her The Mighty Buick.)
(I even linked to it twice for you, so you should have no trouble finding it. Go on now, I’ll wait.)
You’re back? And you loved it, too?! Great! Now let’s get started.
1. Steps and Baby Gates (don’t mix):
“He fell down them a couple of hundred times, and mastered that shit. Practice makes perfect, right?”
I’ve always been a firm believer in “If I tell him not to do it, and he does it anyway and gets hurt, he’ll learn not to do it again. And if he does it again, he didn’t really get hurt.”
That being said, I WISH I had one of those baby helmets — mainly for my benefit; my son’s head is abnormally hard (maybe I should check into world records or something) and I’m sure ANYTHING ELSE would be softer and less damaging than his giant noggin running full-speed goat-fighting-style into my vagina.
It already came out of there once, it’s not going back in.
2. The “Big Boy Bed” (or Crib, or Floor):
“Supposedly, you purchase one when your kid can climb out of the crib.
Bullshit. And I hate that vernacular.”
After about a month or two (or three.. or four) of my son climbing out of his crib every morning to come wake me up (and only getting stuck once a week and amazingly never falling), I switched to the “big boy bed” (read: same old crib without the front) and surrounded it with pillows and blankets.
After another month of him falling out and rolling under and bonking his head in his sleep every single night, he refused to sleep there any longer and made me set him up a “floor bed.”
He’s been sleeping there for 6 months.
3. Potty Training (and bribery):
“I covered the bathroom in so much candy it looked like Willy Wonka’a chocolate factory exploded in there.”
I don’t believe in giving food as a reward.
I will say that my son recently turned 3, has just started peeing on the potty sometimes when he feels like it, and has been eating an awful lot of popsicles lately.
But the two are definitely
4. The Facts of Life (and babies and tampons, oh my!):
“He was grossing me out so badly the other day, describing to me his vomit from the night before in Technicolor.
Finally, I just countered with,
‘Well, babies come out of women’s VAGINAS!'”
My boy hasn’t yet grasped the concept that babies come from somewhere.
But he is fully educated on what a tampon looks like, what it is, what it does, where I keep mine, and how to open them (and the best possible up-close angle to watch them disappear into Momma’s body).
Somehow, though, he also hasn’t grasped that males and females* have different pee-pees, or that he does not need a tampon for himself.
(Yeah, I have no photo for this one, but if you Google “men and tampons,” Chris Christie seems to be a common result. Google “kids and tampons” and you’ll get several pictures of the Duchess of Cornwall.)
*males and females according to sex, not gender.
5. Honesty (get to know thine enemy):
“I made him pretend he was sick. I even made him open the car door and simulate vomiting, which tells you how committed I was to our skit.”
Sadly, my boy isn’t old enough yet for me to include him in my fibbing schemes. But he is valuable for conning people with his puppy-dog baby-blue eyes.
“Poppop, can I have $100 for a ($1.29) Icee? Oh and to get Momma coffee and ice cream and everything else she wants?”
Works every time. As long as he gets his Icee and a dollar to put in
my his piggy bank, he’s happy.
He also makes a damn good excuse if I’m running late or not showing up at all.
If you don’t cry right now you’re not getting any more popsicles — Momma told some friends you were misbehaving and I need to be prepared to back up my story in court.
I mean, I don’t do that.
6. Safety First (or in extreme circumstance, second or third):
“Actively endangering your child’s life really brings out the community feeling in people.”
While my boy is still too young to do a Chinese Fire Drill, mainly because there is no way I am getting him in and out of his seat more times than needed (but you can bet your ass we’ll be doing it when he’s old enough), the majority of parents I know still think I’m insane.
In a world where kids are stolen and trafficked and hit by cars and IT’S JUST NOT SAFE ANYWHERE, EVER, my methods are a little weird. It may not be safe, but I’m not going to let the danger force my son and myself to live our lives in fear.
So my boy is not required to hold my hand when we cross the street. He looks both ways, waits for my okay, and takes off like a rocket, while I hang around to make sure if a motorist does decide to ignore pedestrians, they hit me instead of him.
That’s better than us both lollygagging and getting hit, right?
[Non-traffic related: my boy was just playing with a plastic serrated knife. He bit a piece off — yeah, I don’t even know — so I took it from him, told him he was going to hurt himself, and threw it away. When he went off to get another one, I told him no, so he told me to go in my room. Now, I know the only reason he wants me in here is to get another knife and possibly poke his eye out with it, but who am I to deny a little alone time?]
7. Cursing (like a
“He pops out of bed like he has a spring-loaded tampon up his ass. Sometimes, nothing captures the moment better than ‘Calm the Fuck DOWN!'”
There is a big difference between The Mighty Buick and myself here. She starts this section off by explaining that she tried not to, but eventually gave in.
I never tried not to. I went into this parenting thing with a mouth more potty-inclined than my son (which I guess isn’t saying much — refer to number 3). I never censor myself, and you know what? I can count on one hand the amount of times my boy has repeated naughty words.
I don’t make a big deal about them, so neither does he. And even if he did, I wouldn’t really care. You can read more about that here.
8. Laughing at his inappropriate behavior (you mean funny behavior):
“He walks out of the bathroom wiping his ass- because he thought of something he needed to tell me and he can’t possibly wait until he’s finished. I start telling him it’s inappropriate, but it’s so DISGUSTING I just end up laughing.”
I don’t really have a story for this one.
But I do it, that’s for sure.
Like, one of the biggest no-nos in our house is hitting. But when my boy takes a bat to Jack’s face and makes his eye bloodshot and puffy for the next three days, well come on, that’s just HILARIOUS.
9. Movie and TV viewing (R is for ‘Really appropriate for toddlers’, right?):
“The movie was PG 13. It’s not MY fault my son was asking me, ‘Mom, what’s a blow job?’ 10 minutes in. That’s when the ever-popular ‘I don’t know’ comes in handy.”
Actually this is the one I’m pretty serious about. He watches Nick Jr. and Disney Jr. and that’s it. And even then, if Spongebob or Yo Gabba Gabba come on, I change the channel immediately. It’s gotten to the point that, if I’m not paying attention and Spongebob comes on, my boy will come to me and say “No watch this, Momma.” Such a good boy.
Spongebob is too fast-paced for kids and full of adult humor. I read a study on it once.
Yo Gabba Gabba is rude by teaching kids to address people as “Yo”. At least that’s what I tell myself — really I just don’t like it at all.
But, even with my crazy TV rules, my boy may or may not have screamed “Look! It’s Santa! It’s Santa!” last night while Jack was watching Bad Santa.
10. Computer supervision (Oh look, boobs! Let me supervise that for you):
“First he ‘accidentally’ saw naked ladies on Google images.
Then, he tells me one of the aforementioned naked ladies had a toaster up her butt.”
I don’t allow my boy anywhere near any of the computers in my house. He is not to be trusted. The last time he got ahold of my laptop, he turned the entire screen upside down. Literally. And it took me a few hours to figure out how to make it normal again.
However, there are no set rules about Jack’s iPad. Sometimes when I just can’t get my boy to go to bed, I open YouTube and let him go wild.
Once he falls asleep and I retrieve the iPad, 75% of Jack’s apps have been deleted and Happy Tree Friends is playing on repeat.
(I made him delete his internet history every 5 minutes about a year-and-a-half ago when my boy found porn for the first time. I’m not really sure which is worse, though.)
I can’t think of a better way to end this post than a video of Happy Tree Friends, so I’m going to post a whole episode just so you understand how twisted that cartoon is.
Facebook: Nonsense & Shenanigans / Twitter: @nonsenanigans
Let me (and The Mighty Buick) (oh look, a third link) know if you also have less-than-stellar parenting moments. Or, if you just think we’re nuts.