Kids, man. Why do we have kids? Don't give me any of that birds and the bees, when a man loves a woman bullshit. I know HOW we have kids. I said WHY? I know.. I know.. seemed like a good idea at the time, right? Some tiny little carbon copy of ourselves and our partner that we get to love, nurture, educate, rear up to become productive little members of society. To give our bodies a purpose. To give our hearts a home.
And we get all that shit. What else do we get? Fucking headaches. And sore throats from screaming. And sleep. No. Not sleep. Who the fuck gets sleep with a bunch of tiny little asshole alarm clocks with legs running around all over the place? People who can afford nannies, that's who. Well, I cant afford a nanny. Not that I'd want one. So I, am fucking tired. I do legit enjoy being a mother. Its my greatest accomplishment of course. And I wouldn't trade it, or them to the gypsies for anything in the world. Most days, anyway.
I swear, they mean well. They're good kids. But, they're KIDS. I know that what they mean to say is shit like:
"I love you. Thank you for giving me life. Thank you for allowing me to first destroy whatever you had left of a 'body' before I rip and literally tore myself from it, forever leaving it unrecognizable to you. Thanks for sacrificing your vag for me. Thank you for providing me with *mostly* nutritious meal intake. (I give them chicken nuggets and other processed, cancer forming convenience foods sometimes. So do you. Don't fucking act like you don't. I haven't killed any of them, yet. They're all still alive. That's got to count for like, something.) Thank you for clothing me and sheltering me and kissing my boo-boos and beating my ass when I need it. (Yes, they NEED it sometimes) Thank you for forgiving my farts. And faults. Thank you for literally catching puke with your bare hands. Thank you for not getting pissed when you wake up pissy.. because SOMEBODY crawled into bed beside you at night and then flooded you the fuck out. Thank you for sticking your fingers down my throat when I dont take your advice about chewing properly seriously. Again, thank you for keeping me alive. Thank you for not publicly shaming me when I crap my pants at the playground and there's no public toilet so you have to wet McDonalds napkins that you found in your car down at the drinking fountain to clean my ass before taking me home... naked.. in a car seat."
Ya know... shit like that. I know that's what they MEAN to say.
But... sometimes, it comes off more like:
"I hate you. I want you to die a slow, miserable death. I liked it wherever I was before you put me on the hell-hole of a planet and forced me to do all this shit that I dont want to do just because I'm smaller than you. Because of this unforgivable sin of giving me 'life' I shall first destroy your body, then your mind, and finally your spirit.. leaving not only your vag but also your reflection completely unrecognizable to your, and all other eyes. No, I don't NEED new Jordans. No, I dont NEED $40 plain tank-tops from Justice. But I WANT them. And because I know how much you hate busting your ass at a shitty job to 'provide' for me... I'm going to sit back and smile while demanding that you throw it all away on useless shit that is going to fall apart in 3 weeks."
And we know that's what we're signing up for. Yet we do it willingly, and often multiple times. And of course, it's all worth it at the end of the day when we tuck their stinky asses into bed and feel those tiny arms around our necks, and those sloppy wet lips on our faces.
Yes, parenthood is the true definition of insanity. Who's got my straight-jacket???