STFU, Parents

MommyJacking + Woe Is Mom = Woe Is MommyJacking

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. Don’t you hate it when you don’t make it to something you had FREE tickets to because your kid had to go get his pwecious appendix taken out all randomly?! It’s such a bummer.

Especially if you won the ticket, because then it’s like, what were the chances of you winning tickets? Apparently exactly as high as the chances your kid would wind up in the hospital getting his appendix removed. What are the chances of THAT?! It’s like the opposite of serendipity. And then no one wants to reimburse you even though you didn’t make it to the event :( :(. Life can be so hard.

(submitted by Anonymous)

This one required a re-read for me. I couldn’t really believe that A. devoted her status to bragging about her child’s “healthy” potty time. I couldn’t accept that “pinches it off clean” meant what I thought it meant. And yet, it did mean that… and so much more.

I’ve heard that discussing your kid’s healthy poop is good times, because they’re at the age where you don’t have much to brag about, so you may as well brag about how well they shit. And I think that’s fine. If you want to test the waters, so to speak, with other parents during a playdate or something - great! But on Facebook? A. couldn’t have made up something about how well he brushes his teeth? This is a classic FAIL. Take your head out of your kid’s ass, A. There’s a whole world out here!

(submitted by Anonymous)

You know what they say: When life hands you lemons, make blood lemonade! Beat the shit out of those loud, obnoxious, several-years-old lemons till they’re squeezed down to a bloody pulp. Then pass around Dixie cups for others to share in your hard work. Because life is about making sure we get what we want.

It’s no matter that M.’s baby is also going to one day sit at a lemonade stand and annoy the crap out of everyone who passes by. That’s entirely irrelevant until the baby actually IS that age. Right now, the baby is a tiny being who needs to sleep, and the kids outside are making a ruckus, and if they don’t knock it off then M. will be forced to go outside and beat them the f*%k down. End of story!!!! AAARRRGGGHHH!

(submitted by Anonymous)

Ruby Tuesday

I’ve spent my fair share of time in Ruby Tuesday franchises - particularly around age 14 when my friends and I would hang out on Friday nights and order several baskets of chicken fingers while the servers pretended not to notice we were chain-smoking. I know all about the “family-friendly vibe.” The music, the laid-back atmosphere. And I can assure you the last thing I need when I’m eating fried mozzarella and cheddar fries is a constipated baby visibly exploding all over his Grandma, who’s eating, who then wipes her mouth with the napkin he shat on.

But hey, I wasn’t there. Maybe the restaurant really did erupt in cheers. Maybe it was such a contagiously joyful moment that the manager bought everyone slices of double chocolate cake. Maybe this is a different kind of Ruby Tuesday than the ones I’ve been to. But I doubt it.

PS: Yo, Cliff, WTF are you talking about??

(submitted by Anonymous)

Language Butchery

This submission has pushed me over the edge: I simply have to start a Language Butchery column. It’s become too much for me to bear. When people start spelling words like “lissoning,” it’s clear to me that my job has just begun.

The best line in the thread is probably this one from M: “Once is a while he will bet up ben, but he is very quiet about it.” Wait, what?! Pardonnez-moi? You always suspect the quiet one, M.!! Now I’m just imagining Tommy as the male version of The Bad Seed, setting creepy fires and beating up playmates without making so much as a sound. 

The fact is, maybe Mrs. Brown is singling Tommy out, but I seriously doubt it. When the class gets load, Tommy makes the teacher craby by keeping his lips closed? I don’t think so. My mother was a teacher for 29 years, and believe me when I say she can spot a delinquent dipshit a mile away. Tommy just needs to do what I had to do, which is read every single Judy Blume book 11 times apiece and shut my freaking face during class. It’s not that hard to do. Silence is golden.

Teach your kid how to act, C. Or hell, homeschool the little yapper. With Language Butchery skills like you gots, I’m sure he’ll turn out just fynne.

(submitted by Anonymous)