I Heart My Little A-Holes (15 page)

Definition: These are the totally badass awesome parents who bought us kegs and shit in high school and taught us how to make Jello so we could make Jello shots. They act more like friends and less like parents and don’t really discipline their kids.

Okay, so I already have enough friends and even if I were looking for more, I’m not sure I would pick my kids. I mean my kids can be total a-holes (duh, check out the title of the book), and would you be friends with someone who pees on you in the shower and throws the perfectly good dinner you cooked across the room?

ME: Wow, Jen, your potato salad sucks balls. But it makes an awesome Frisbee.

And here’s another thing, hell if I’m going to give away my alcohol. I mean, yes, sometimes I bring my friends bottles of wine and shit like that, but they return the favor. But where the hell is my sixteen-year-old going to buy
me
a six-pack? ’Cause Tarjay cards like anyone under the age of 97. I know because I was all psyched when my best bud Arnie carded me last week there and I was all excited that he thought I looked under 21 until he explained to me that they pretty much have to card anyone who breathes. Dude, Arnie, we’re supposed to be friends. Just act like you think I look 20, capiche?

So there you go. All five parenting styles. So which one are you? One of the Baby-shakers, Codependent granolaheads, Nervous nellies, Dicktators, or Enabling A-Holes? I mean, not that there’s anything wrong with any of them. Basically the way I see it, we’re all just doing whatever it F’ing takes to survive and not go to prison for killing a child and not raise someone who will go to prison for killing a child. Right?

God, grant me the Serenity to accept the things I cannot change (that 4-year-olds are a-holes);

Courage to change the things I can (the clock so I can put her to bed earlier);

And Wisdom to know the difference (between scolding and unleashing every curse word I know on her).

Living one day at a time (until my husband comes home so I can dump her ass on him);

Enjoying one moment at a time (that precious few seconds when she has her brother in a headlock and it’s totally quiet);

Accepting hardship as the pathway to peace (at 8 pm when I can finally shut the bathroom door and poop and read People magazine all by myself);

Taking, as He did, this sinful world as it is (children born with vocal cords),

Not as I would have it (children’s vocal cords surgically removed);

Trusting that He will make all things right (that one day she will have her own daughter– karma!),

If I surrender to His Will (waving the white flag from the three-week-old fort I’m not allowed to take down in the living room);

That I may be reasonably happy in this life (define reasonably),

And supremely happy with Him (as long a there are cheeseburgers and foot massages and no 4-year-olds, I’m happy to sport a perma-grin),

Forever in the next (whoa whoa whoa, forever is like some serious commitment, but WTH).

Amen.

I love how the experts tell us if we’re gonna let our kids watch TV we should watch it with them. WHAT?!!! Why on earth do you think I’m putting her in front of the TV in the first place, Mr. So-called Expert? To get some shit done. So yes, sometimes some inappropriate shows slip between the cracks when I’m not looking. No, not shows like Free My Willy and Batman in Robin. Shows like Caillou. Not Blow me Caillou or Caillou goes to the local Whorehouse. Just Caillou. Because Caillou sucks and can eat my shorts and I hate his F’ing guts.

Now if you’ve never seen Caillou, you might be inclined to watch it to see WTF I’m talking about. Well don’t. This is not like one of those times when I tell you NOT to do a Google image search of placenta artwork but I know you’re going to just because I said don’t. I am 200% dead serious when I say, DON’T WATCH CAILLOU. You will hate it, you will hate me, and most of all you will hate him. Wanna know why? Here are ten GIANT reasons I hate Mother-F’ing Caillou:

1. What the hell kind of name is Caillou? The only people who can pull off names that weird are really good-looking people. People like Hermione. But two-dimensional, round-headed bald kids? Not so much. Ordinarily I’m crazy lazy (Uggh, I hate when I inadvertently rhyme) but since I’m writing about him I decided to look up his name. Apparently Caillou is French for pebble. Well, there you go. He is about as lame as a rock.

2. Why is he bald? I’ve heard a lot of people joke that he has cancer. Because you know, leukemia is so funny. But seriously, someone once told me that by not giving him a hair color, all kids could relate to him— blondes, brunettes, redheads. What?! That makes about no sense at all. Then why not give him hair in ALL different colors? Or clear hair? How many four-year-olds have
no
hair? None. Well, maybe kids with alopecia, but if that’s what they’re going for then have an episode about it or something.

3. Caillou has the most annoying theme song in the history of television. As if we haven’t heard him say “I’m Caillou” enough times throughout the song, he says it like 9 times at the end of it. “I’m Caillou, Caillou, Caillou, Caillou, Caillou, Caillou, Caillou.” For the love of God, stop singing! We know who the F you are already. The show is named after you for Pete’s sake.

4. I’m inventing a new drinking game. Whenever Caillou whines you take a drink. The last person to get their stomach pumped wins. And once your kid watches Caillou, it’s not just Caillou’s whiny-ass voice you have to listen to. Your kid starts to sound like that too. Remember the scene in Reservoir Dogs when the guy gets his ear cut off? Sometimes I wish that were me.

5. I’ll tell you what really irks me. The way the narrator calls Caillou’s mom “Mommy,” like it’s actually her name. The narrator says crap like, “Mommy is very good at making Caillou feel better.” The only person who should call someone Mommy is the kid who came out of her vajayjay. Period. I know some husbands do it too, but they shouldn’t. It’s wrong for so many reasons.

6. The narrator is so F’ing annoying she gets #6 too. Have you ever noticed how she’s constantly cutting in to say things like, “Caillou felt sad.” No shit Sherlock, he’s crying.

7. What is up with all the dowdy moms on this show? Like Caillou’s mom (see how that works, narrator?). Not only does she dress like she’s 9,000 years old, she constantly looks like she’s free-balling. Did the illustrator forget to draw a bra on her? And if this show is all about characters we can relate to, is she supposed to look like me? Talk about insulting. Do I walk around with my muffin top protruding beneath my shirt? No. I do what all the mothers do. I squish it into my jeans where no one can see it.

8. Musical interludes. ’Nuff said.

9. Why is he bald? Yes, I know I already did this one, but it’s so annoying I think it merits being mentioned again.

10. I’m trying to think of one more thing to make this list an even ten, but I’m totally distracted. All I can think about is getting a snack right now. It’s 4:43 so I can’t put dinner on the table for 17 more minutes. The 17 longest minutes of my life. Besides when I’m watching Caillou.