Friday, April 22, 2011

Those Three (Dreaded) Little Words

About a week ago my parents gave Alex yet another stuffed animal to add to his ever increasing menagerie. I swear at this point I don't know how he finds space on his bed to sleep amongst the damned things. But they all sleep with him and they all have names, all of which he remembers. This one was a little hound dog he named Honey.

He's ridiculously protective of these creatures and hates when Amy plays with them, which to be fair, usually involves getting snots and drool on them as she worries them like a dog with a rat in its mouth. So we have a rule. If he doesn't want them touched they stay on his bed. But he's a child, so that rule is forgotten approximately 152 times a day. And the stuffed animals are taken down, Amy gets them, tears into them like a pitbull with a rope toy, and I'm breaking up another fight. I do not have patience for this shit. And my daughter is stubborn and son absent-minded. I could see this going on well into their teens.

So, once again, she's got his stupid stuffed dog. And I told him this time he's letting her keep it. A few minutes later she climbed onto a chair, stuffed animal in hand, and fell over. When she started crying, both Alex and I rushed over to her. My first thought was how sweet it was that he was so concerned with his little sister's well-being. But, of course, I was wrong. In her fall she'd dropped Honey. He snatched it up, yelled "Mine" and ran away. Are you kidding me!? Once I'd calmed her down I calmly walked over, yanked the dog, gave a speech about the value of his sister over the value of a toy, put in a mention of the standing rule he had once again failed to obey, and proceeded to toss Honey on top of a high bookshelf, to be kept away from him "until further notice".

His face darkened. He pouted. The tears of rage began to form. And then those three dreaded words whined from my child's mouth. "It's not fair!"

No. You know what's not fair? The fact I had to deal with that entire situation and can't just set a bonfire in the backyard with all the stuffed animals because it would psychologically scar my son. So, here's a list of other things that are "not fair":

*"Sleeping in" means 8AM. Due to this, conversely, a "late night" usually means 2AM.

*Two hours of chasing a toddler around a playground at break-neck speeds apparently does not count as cardio. If you want proof, look at my ass.

*Kids need new clothes every few months. That means I can only get new clothes every couple of years. This doesn't keep them from doing everything in their power to stain/rip/stretch/otherwise ruin my clothes.

*Parents don't get sick days.

*I haven't had a party with cake, balloons, and a bouncy house in years. Yet I still seem to be getting older.

*Stretch marks. Enough said.

*Listening to favorite songs censored because children will repeat everything. And a toddler will ONLY repeat the choice words. That and having to listen to children's songs. Then realizing you know the words and are singing them unconsciously.

*Sex timed around whether the children are sleeping, quiet, and have not psychically sensed you were possibly thinking of getting it on.

*No matter what you do, your child will, at some point, "hate you and you're the worst parent ever!"

*Picking up the same toys 187 times a day.

*No matter how many times you check and recheck, after the laundry is done you will always find that one dirty sock/pair of underwear in a ball under a bed. And it wasn't there before.

*Your child will make at least one good friend with someone whose parent you cannot stand. They will want to see this other child constantly.

*At some point your kid will be sick with a high fever, a rash, and fluids leaking from every orifice, scaring you to death. You will rush them to the ER, wait several hours, at which point all symptoms will have magically cleared up and they will get a clean bill of health. Immediately upon getting home your child will puke on your shoes and the fever will return.

*Children are never born with instruction manuals. Sure, you can pick up various guides on how raise your child to be happy/educated/empathetic/religious/vegan/republican/zombie/other/etc. But, no matter how detailed those books are, your kid's never going to fit a specific mold and not every tip is going to work. Instead, they're born with a placenta. And, while medical science has come up with some pretty great uses for said afterbirth in recent years, personally, I still would have preferred a model-specific detailed programming guide for each of my children.  

*You have have to hear "It's not fair!" When, in fact, it totally WAS!

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