Totally The Bomb.com

Don’t Freakin’ Tell Me How To Raise My Kid

So, I am spending the week at my grandma’s house this week. Don’t get me wrong, I love my grandparents–but I’m having to bite my tongue a lot. So, I figured I could just unload on you guys instead.

My kid is covered pretty much head to toe in bug bites, and I blame you. Why?

• Because when I said “Daughter, let’s put on some bug spray before you go outside and play next to that stagnant pond.” You scoffed at me, and said, “During the day? That’s just ridiculous. Quit being over protective.” So, you made me feel like a tool, and I ignored my better instincts. Now, she looks like a big swollen welp, she had some crazy allergic reaction, and I had to use my freakin OnStar to haul my ass to town (which is like half an hour away) and get her some children’s benadryl.

I get it–you can take the heat and the humidity better than we can, and it’s all my fault because I don’t let my kid play outside in hundred degree weather for hours every day.

• Here’s the thing, we live in the city, and my backyard consists pretty much of a pool. So, when it’s a hundred degrees–guess where we are… also this humidity is so ridiculous I want to pass out, and since my kid looks like a giant bug bite–it’s kind of getting to her, too. So, when she throws up at the fish hatchery on the vacation bible school field trip, I’m going to go on ahead and take her back to your house. Could you please not make me feel like a shithead about it?

I know you think the country is way better than the city.

• I seriously don’t give a flying rat’s ass about that. Stop giving me crap about not living out in the middle of nowhere. My mom did me a huge favor and got the hell away from podunkville as soon as she could, which means I grew up to do things like get a degree and a career– not pop out a bunch of babies at the ripe ‘ol age at 17. I always thought it was the city mouse that made fun of the country mouse in that story… maybe I should read it again, because I think I totally missed the point.

Stop calling my kid rotten. Stop telling everyone she’s spoiled.

• She’s five freakin’ years old, which means she’s old enough to understand what you’re saying, and you’re giving her a complex. I know I keep buying her toys, but there isn’t really anything to do here, and she’s bored as all get out. I don’t blame her, so am I. I mean, I am glad I get to come and visit, and I enjoy your company and all that, but, seriously, would it kill you guys to get like, an indoor playground around here or something?

I don’t want to pick beans, lettuce, berries, or anything else.

• Dude, even my farmville crops are wilted–what on earth makes you think I want to go out and pluck some actual fruit off a vine? Also, I don’t think at any point things are going to get so bad in this world that we’re going to have to “guard our crops with a shotgun in order to feed our family.” If worse comes to worse, chicken nuggets are like, 99 cents.

Could you stop forcing my kid to clean her plate, then giving her crap about it when she says she’s too full to eat another bite?

• I know that it’s wrong to waste food. She’s eats when she wants to eat and stops when she’s full, and I am TOTALLY okay with that. If I was worried, I would do something about it, but she is a normal healthy weight–and she’s regulated that all on her own. Why on earth would I take that from her?

Who the hell are all these people that keep stopping by?

• And why do so many of them show up before 8am? Have you guys not heard of the telephone?

The news is not appropriate television for a five year old.

• What the heck is so important that you have to watch an hour of it every day? All they talk about is killings, robberies, suicide and other horrible stuff–can’t we just skip it this week? How on earth does that crap pertain to you. I don’t know what you’re worried about, I am sure it all happens in that evil city you’re always putting down–you’ll be fine. I haven’t watched an entire news program, like, ever, and I am up on current events. I drove all the freakin’ way down here for you, maybe you could do me that one little favor so I don’t have to explain to my kid why some school teacher took her life or whatever the hell they are talking about.

Did you seriously for real just give me crap about the fact that my kid interrupts adults when she has a question for me?

• She’s hanging out at your church with a bunch of people she doesn’t know, and if she feels like she needs to ask me things like “Where’s the bathroom?” or “Is it okay if I puke in this bush over here?” Then guess what–I am cool with her just asking. You know what, I am cool with her asking whenever she wants, and that’s the choice I have made as a parent. I think it’s beyond ridiculous to treat kids like their second class citizens who have to WAIT until people are finished talking just because they’re smaller.

Whew. I feel much better. Anything you need to get off your chest today? Unload in the comments! (That sounded dirtier than I’d intended)

Posted in: Family

Tags: Grandma, Kid, Spoiled