"Sometimes I don't like my kid," and other $*&t nobody wants to admit

Sometimes I don’t like my kid. There I said it. Okay, for those of you gasping for oxygen and speed dialing some help line for me, allow me to rephrase:  sometimes I intensely dislike Olivia’s behavior. Like right now, she’s been whining for a solid 10 minutes and we literally have no idea why. It’s extremely unpleasant and quite frankly it hurts my freaking ears. So I left the room. If you are reading this and saying “What is she talking about? I ALWAYS like my kid!” you are a damn liar. Yep, I said that too. People, I’m not saying you don’t always love your kid. I ALWAYS, ALWAYS, ALWAYS love The Boss Lady but sometimes I just wish she would stop her crappy behavior.

Let’s be real here, if you were in a relationship with ANY other person who constantly yelled at you when they wanted something, occasionally threw a shoe/DVD/cup at your head, and often got their excrement on you, every single person you know would tell you to run, not walk, away from that relationship. There are abuse hot lines for that kind of nonsense. Except when it comes to kids. We don’t have an escape. We take the abuse because God geniusly instilled in parents a true unconditional love for their offspring. Haven’t you ever heard that the reason babies look like their dads in the beginning is so the male would bond with their children and not leave them in search of a pina colada, a beach, and some peace and friggin’ quiet. Or something like that. I’m sure I’m misquoting science *a little* here.

At any rate, go ahead and admit it: sometimes, when your kid is being an extra special kind of butthead, you want to just be like “Peace Out Captain Insane-O!” It’s cool, it’s just between us.

You don’t get used to it. Any of it. Before we had Oli, I had a horrid fear of poop. I have a really sensitive gag reflex (like I can’t even brush my tongue without gagging) and I was really worried that at the first sight of poop, I would just faint. Every parent we knew said “Oh, no you just get used to it. It’s not that big of a deal when it’s your kid.” Okay, EARTH TO THE ALL OF YOU CRAZY PEOPLE WHO SAID THAT TO ME: WE ARE STILL TALKING ABOUT HUMAN EXCREMENT HERE!!! I have not gotten used to poop. In fact, I can’t tell you how many times I have gagged when I was changing Olivia’s diaper. I mean like I had to put my lower face in my shirt and inhale in the protection of my shirt to keep from vomiting.

Also, weirdly enough, you don’t get used to the lack of sleep or energy either. You don’t get used to really any of it. You just develop different coping mechanisms. Like wine. Or blogging. Hey, don’t knock ‘em till you try ‘em.

I use my kid to get out of things. Okay, not all things. But like if I don’t want to do something anyway and I know Olivia is going to be an insane person, I’ll just say “Sorry, can’t go, I have a kid who can’t act right today.” I know most of you reading this are wondering, “Has she done that to ME?” Honestly, I don’t know which of you are asking that so I really can’t say. But I’ve done it. Because sometimes I don’t want to do stuff. And saying, “No, I just really don’t want to do that,” seems rude (I’m a Southern girl, we have a thing about being perceived as rude). So I say that I can’t because I have a kid. I suspect that a lot people with kids do this and that’s why there’s a myth that once you  have kids you don’t do anything anymore.

It’s not that those of us with kids can’t do anything anymore, sometimes it’s just that we don’t want to. We’re too busy being tired and cleaning up poop.

A lot of things I do, I do because it’s stuff I wanted to do as a kid. For instance: the zoo. I freaking loved the zoo as a kid but we were poor and poor folks don’t get to go to the zoo. When Olivia was old enough to walk, I went to the zoo and bought our family a fancy dancy zoo membership. The first few times we went, Olivia let us know she was tired about 30 minutes into it and was more interested in the snacks we brought than any of the animals. Kids this young don’t really care about stuff like the zoo. It’s true. Case in point: yesterday I needed to run some errands and nearby to my errand was a pet store. I took Olivia in and she oohed and aahhed at the fish and mice and birds more than she’s ever done toward any of the zoo animals. We have a good time at the zoo and all but really she doesn’t give a crap if we are in the zoo or in a pet store. She just likes animals. But hey, I’m livin’ out my dreams these days as a Once Poor Kid so I’m gonna keep buying the zoo membership and we’re gonna keep going. Because I want to, dammit.

Kids’ shows will turn you into a raging alcoholic. Except Sesame Street. That show’s still bad ass after all of these years. And they have cool people on there like LL Cool J. But the rest of that nonsense is probably only entertaining if you have a hit of acid to go with it. There are just the weirdest damn characters and the weirdest looking people. It’s like our kids are being taught through their tv shows that being a weirdo is cool. I mean there are shows about everything under the sun and they all have a lesson to go with them. Whatever happened to quality cartoons like Tom & Jerry and they used to just run around beating the hell out of each other? Or the Road Runner and Coyote and the hilarious tricks they used to play on each other? Or that awesome Pepe Le Pew (sp?) who taught us that if you smell bad, you will NEVER get a girl to like you? Now, THAT was a good lesson. Oh, and even though I said that Sesame Street is still awesome, I’m pretty sure I saw Cookie Monster eating broccoli the other day! WTF??? Broccoli? He’s the friggin’ Cookie Monster for crying out loud! I’m not sure why all of these shows have to have so much meaning. Whatever happened to just having fun?

No matter how cute or awesome someone tells you they think your kid is, they still think their kid is more so. And it’s true, I’m quite certain that my child is the most incredible child on the planet. I’m sure yours is great , but my kid? Near perfection. Insanity and all.