Say It to Me, Not My Kids

If you have a child, you have experienced this.  It doesn’t matter if your child is 5 years old or 5 hours old.  Getting unsolicited advice, in and of itself, is, at minimum, annoying.  When, however, people try to disguise parenting critiques and advice as innocent conversations with my children, it makes me want to kick puppies.  First of all, did I accidentally put on my cone-shaped hat with the word “DUNCE” stenciled down the front or did you forget to wear yours?  When we were in the grocery store check out line and you looked at my infant son and said to him, in that annoying baby talk voice, “you should tell your mommy that you need to be wearing a hat”, are you so stupid that you expect him to relay this message to me or do you think that I am too stupid to recognize that you are critiquing me as a mother?

The thing is, this happens all the time.  Truth be told, my own mother does it.  (Don’t look so indignant, Mom.  You know you do it.  I love you anyways but, seriously, cut that shit out.)  Where strangers get off, though, dishing out parenting advice and criticism in general to people minding their own business, I will never know.  Why there are those that think it is acceptable if the criticism is delivered to children, in front of parents, is a total mystery.

For starters, haven’t these jackasses ever heard of how most parents try to teach their children NOT TO TALK TO STRANGERS?  Yet, it seems every time I take my kids anywhere, strangers are trying to strike up conversations with them.  Honestly, I don’t really mind it, within reason.  What has always shocked me, though, is how many strangers have offered my children CANDY!  Two major rules of thumb: Don’t talk to strangers and don’t take candy from strangers, being broken by adults and right in front of my face.  No, lady!  You can keep your candy!  And not just because I fear my 11 month old would choke to death on that peppermint but also because if my kid needs a snack, I am not going to go looking for a handout from some stranger in the auto shop waiting area.

A little insight: my 2-year-old could not care less about what his hair looks like.  Even if he gave a shit, he is incapable of transporting himself to or scheduling a hair appointment.  I am his mother and his father and I have decided that we think his little, long bowl cut is absofuckinglutely adorable.  So, the next time you are taking my order at Denny’s and the urge overtakes you to lean over and say to my toddler, “Oh my!  When are you going to get your hair cut”, don’t get upset when I shank you.

You cannot tell me that this is not one of the cutest kids you have ever seen in your life.

The next time you are standing in the checkout line and you tell my daughter, “Your mommy shouldn’t let you bite your nails or you’ll get worms”, don’t be surprised when I turn to your husband, standing next to you, and say “Your wife should mind her own damn business or she is gonna get her ass kicked in Wal-Mart.”

If you think my kid needs a nap, chances are I am aware that he needs a damn nap.  Don’t talk to my kid to inform him that his mommy needs to get him home for a nap.  He will adamantly disagree and now you have made the next five minutes of my life a little more of a hell because you said the “n” word to his face and he is going to express his opposition to your suggestion in the form of a Level II meltdown.  You say it again, and it escalates to a Level IV/Code Red and I will be forced to respond violently.  You just better hope it is not my nap time when you pull this shit. 

If it bothers you that my 5-year-old opted out of socks with his tennis shoes, keep it to yourself.  If you say to him in a “wittle” voice with “wittle” words that his mommy should go get him some socks, I am going to give you a “wittle” kick in the taco.

Mind your own business, people.  You can go have your own kids and be a perfect parent and raise perfect kids.  Please don’t interrupt me while I am busy screwing mine up completely with long hair and stinky shoes. 

Things You Should Never Say to a Pregnant Woman

I know I have touched on this before but it bears repeating.  Sometimes I have to wonder if some people are just complete and total idiots or if they are just complete and total assholes.  The things people say, in general, often baffles me but the things people say to a pregnant woman are mind-boggling.  Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t limited to the general public or even friends and family; the things my husband says often make me want to kick him square in the coin purses.  Grab a pen a pad, class.  You need to take notes.

  1. Are you having twins? – Gee, thanks!  I was under the mistaken impression that my weight gain wasn’t abnormal.  Now, thanks to you, I realize that my ass has grown at an alarming rate and that the only logical explanation that you can fathom is multiples.
  2. Are you SURE you’re not having twins? Maybe they missed one! – Look, asshole, I told you that I had an ultrasound and there was only one heartbeat and only one fetus.  Thanks to you, I am fully aware that I am a certifiable heifer but it is NOT because there is a hidden twin in my uterus, it is because I ate an entire pan of brownies and washed it down with chocolate chip cookies stuffed with Oreos.  HAPPY NOW?!?!
  3. You are getting HUGE! - Why is it okay to say this to a pregnant woman?  Would any of you non-pregnant people appreciate this being said to you?  Why do you think that just because I am pregnant that I should be okay with, much less flattered or excited by, having my weight thrown in my face every other day?
  4. I HATE that name. - I really don’t give a fuck.  Have your own baby and name it whatever the fuck you want.  Also, don’t offer me a list of acceptable alternatives.  I don’t care if you hate the name I have chosen and, NO, I don’t want to pick Joseph instead because you love Joseph.  If you want to name your baby Tutu Fairydust, I could not give less of a fuck.
  5. You’re not supposed to be drinking that Dr. Pepper- Kiss my ass.  I will drink whatever the fuck I want.  Whether I want to be reasonable and drink a Dr. Pepper every day or if I want to drink a 12 pack a day, it is none of your fucking business.  Cram it.
  6. Haven’t you had that baby yet? - Asking this question should be grounds for justifiable homicide.  If I had the baby, would I still be pregnant, dumbass?  Do you think I gave birth and crammed the baby back into my vagina because being kicked, having back aches, not being able to breathe, not being able to sleep, having swollen feet and fingers, sweating bullets when it is 50 degrees and having everyone express surprise at how fat your ass is getting is so much fucking fun?
  7. Four kids?!? That is going to be hard! - No shit, Sherlock.  Here I was thinking that the reason three was hard was because of the odd number.  My theory is that with three, one of them is the third wheel and THAT is the reason I have to do so much parenting.  Now that I am adding a fourth, the numbers will be even and they will pair off and take care of each other and I can get on with my life.
  8. How are you feeling? - Like complete and total shit, that’s how I am feeling.  I am fat.  I am waddling.  My legs hurt.  My feet are swelling.  I have to pee every 34.7 seconds.  I can’t sleep.  I can barely breathe.  I am beyond exhausted.   My back hurts.  My feet hurt.  A tiny human is beating the hell out of me from the inside.  I AM MISERABLE.  Most likely, however, I am just going to tell you “I’m fine” because people expect you to blow sunshine and rainbows up their skirts and tell you about the magical wonders of pregnancy.
  9. Don’t you just love being pregnant? - Brace yourself:  No.  Actually, I do not enjoy pregnancy at all.  I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE the end result but I do not enjoy being pregnant.  I completely understand that there are countless women that have struggled with infertility and/or experienced losses (I have several friends that fall under those umbrellas) but I don’t see why that means that I have to learn to love being sick, being swollen, being sore, being fatigued, as well as the additional symptoms I have experienced as a result of having Lupus and Secondary Sjogren’s, like coughing up blood, severe anemia, preterm labor and all the medications that come with that, kidney infections, etc.  Suck it.

The following are things and expectant father should NEVER say to his pregnant wife/girlfriend:

    1. Are you really going to eat another cookie/brownie/bowl of ice cream? - Why don’t you just call her a fat bitch and start mooing?  If you value your life, you will offer to get her that sixth brownie that she is eyeballing.
    2. My back is killing me. - You really are barking up the wrong fucking tree.  You really don’t know the meaning of discomfort until you have experienced the third trimester of pregnancy.  You will be hard pressed getting any ounce of sympathy from me.  Your aching back can be fixed with a little pain pill.  My achy back requires that I eject a tiny human from my body and I don’t get to pick when that happens.
    3. Why are you so tired? – You really want to pull at that thread?  I can tell you exactly why, in great detail, if you want to know.  Better yet, why don’t I wake you up every time I wake up to pee or because the baby kicked too hard or because I got a Charlie horse.  Let me know how well rested you feel.
    4. You should get more sleep. - Well, that is a genius fucking idea!  Why didn’t I think of that?
    5. Why are you being such a bitch? - Run.  Run for your life.  Best case scenario, she is going to launch into a verbal tirade, the likes of which you have never seen; giving new meaning to “bitch”.  Worst case scenario, you are going to die.
    6. (Insert name) looks GREAT for having three kids! – OH NO YOU DIH-ENT!!  Shit like that will get you killed when I am not pregnant.
    7. What did you make for dinner? - Well, I made myself a brownie hot fudge sundae.  You can have whatever you want.

Other useful tips: