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Authors: Karen Alpert

I Want My Epidural Back (3 page)

BOOK: I Want My Epidural Back
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Shit I do that I know I shouldn't do

YEAH, I'M THAT MOM
. Sometimes I do shit because it's easier or cheaper or just because it's more fun. Am I worried about the well-being of my kiddos? Sure. Sometimes. But I'm also worried about my own well-being. And if I listened to every overachieving Martha Stewart-y a-hole who looks down her nose at me, I'd probably slit my wrists, and
that
wouldn't be healthy at all. So here goes. A bunch of shit I do that I know I shouldn't do but I do anyways because life is too short to worry so much.

  
1.
  I take my kids to McDonald's. GASP!!! A lot. And damn does that shit taste good. I mean yeah, I know it's mostly chemicals, but somewhere in there there's a real potato, right? It's not like the scientists are standing in a lab putting a bunch of chemicals together and suddenly they're like, “KABLOOEY, there's a French fry!”

  
2.
  I let the TV babysit them. I mean every month I get the cable bill and I'm like, holy crap, you want
how
much?!!! And then
I'm like, ohhh, I guess that's not so bad. I just got a full-time nanny for $120 a month!

  
3.
  I don't buy organic shit. Helllllo, do you know what organic shit does? It goes bad in like negative three seconds. And here's another reason I don't buy organic. It costs like a million dollars. I mean I'm standing in the store going, hmmmm, which strawberries should I buy? The ones that are $2.99 and are plump and red and juicy? Or the ones that are $5.99 and look like dried cranberries?

  
4.
  I let my kids wear whatever the hell they want as long as they aren't going to freeze to death or be mistaken for a hooker.

  
5.
  I let my kids eat dirt. And suck on banisters. And eat crusty old Cheerios off the floor in the car. I mean it's not like I say, “Go eat dirt,” but I don't react as quickly as I should. Like last week Holden was licking the elevator buttons and I didn't react for at least ten floors. In my defense, a really cute UPS guy got on so I was a little distracted. You should have seen his package.

  
6.
  Speaking of dirt, here are my two favorite cleaning products: saliva and 409. First I use saliva, and if it doesn't do the job I get off my lazy ass and go get the 409. So pretty much every
surface in my house is either crawling with my mouth bacteria or will make your genes mutate. Want to come over for dinner?

  
7.
  If I suddenly realize that my kiddo forgot to change his underwear that morning, I tell him to change it. Unless he already has his shoes on. Then I say we'll just change it as soon as he gets home from school, only I usually forget after school and finally remember right before he goes to bed and why would he put on a clean pair of underwear just to go to bed? No wonder his ass smells like ass.

  
8.
  And speaking of asses that smell like asses, I don't bathe my kiddos every night. I mean hell if I'm letting my kids sit back and take a luxurious bubble bath when I'm lucky to squeeze in a shower two mornings a week. And if
anyone
needs a shower, it's the person whose arms were licked up and down even though she kept yelling, “
Lick Mommy
is NOT a funny game!”

  
9.
  I dream about my kids becoming nerds. That's right. I see all these moms clambering to get their kids into the popular clique and I'm like, are you crazy??? Do you know what popular kids do? BJ rings and coke. Do you know what nerdy kids do? Study and stay home with their parents on Saturday nights. I mean no, I don't want them to be so nerdy that they get held up by their underpants and get thrown into lockers and shit, but a little nerdy would be awesome. Of course, this may be unlikely considering how cool their parents are. Bwhahahahahaha.

10.
  I don't finish shit.

ZOEY:
Mommy, I need you . . .

ME:
Awww, that's so sweet, honey.

ZOEY:
. . . to buy me that Lego set.

WTF? How was I supposed to know she'd insert a giant pause into her sentence?

A love letter to another mediocre mom

Dear Future BFF,

Oh, how I've dreamed of meeting you for so many years. The fantasy plays out in my head time and time again. I'm sitting in a restaurant and I hear a ruckus across the room because your rugrat is filling his soda cup, only he won't stop and the soda is overflowing and you've lost your shit and now you're threatening to lock him in the car. I swoon because we are so alike.

Your greasy hair is pulled back into a half-assed ponytail that's falling out, there are deep-set wrinkles under your eyes from years of being tortured by children throughout the night, and your beautiful butt looks like it has four butt cheeks because your underwear is too tight and is cutting each butt cheek in half under your disgusting faded black leggings that are your favorites because they're the only ones that fit you anymore. I am stunned by your beauty.

I can tell that we are meant for each other by the way you chug your wine like you're drinking Gatorade at the end of a marathon and shovel fistfuls of leftover French fries and pizza crusts
from your kid's plate into your pie hole even though “technically” you're just having a salad.

And even when my kid is making piercing dolphin noises that might break the glass windows, you smile at me, and not one of those jackass condescending smiles. The kind of smile that says, “Been there, done that, and I know how much it sucks to be you.” Because you are me. And I am you.

As you struggle to get your kid to put his coat on, I have plenty of time to come up to you, but alas, I'm too busy prying the saltshaker out of my kid's hands before it spills everywhere because he unscrewed the top. And then when I look up, you're gone.

Out the window, I see you opening the door to your minivan and my heart swells as you hold piles of trash and toys in your car before it spills out. And after you finally wrestle your little jackass into his car seat by pushing down on his crotch (which I know from experience feels really wrong) and are about to pull out of the parking spot, you remember one more thing.

You jump out and run up to the window where I'm sitting and you slam something against the glass so I can see it. It's a dried-up crusty old wipe with your phone number scrawled across it.

I ignore my kid and text you before you even pull out of the parking lot and we plan a playdate for Monday morning. Wine included. It is fate and we will be friends forever.

                                       
Love,

                                       
Another mediocre mom

I just stole the batteries from my kid's toy to put in my own “toy.” I feel like I've reached a new low, and yet I'm feeling very, VERY good.

FRIEND:
I can make reservations for tonight. Does seven thirty work?

ME:
How about seven?

FRIEND:
Oh, you want to go BEFORE the kids go to bed?

ME:
It's either that or I lie to my husband and tell him you're picking me up at seven and hide behind a tree for a half hour in the front yard waiting for you 'cause I don't want to deal with putting the kids to bed.

A completely unscientific study about multitasking

AGGGHHH, I HAVE LIKE 9 MILLION THINGS TO DO
and there aren't even 9 million seconds in a day. I don't know how the hell I'm gonna get it all done. Oh wait, I know! I'll multitask. Nahhh, not like I'm gonna check my e-mails while I'm watching the kids beat the shit out of each other. Anyone can check their phone while they're doing other stuff. I mean like I'm
REALLY
gonna come up with some inventive ways to multitask. If I can save myself a few minutes in a day, I might actually get in a shower this week. If not, back the F up because one lift of my arm and my BO is literally going to make your nose shrivel up and die. Be back soon to report my findings.

Okay, I'm back! And boy, did I learn a lot. I mean yeah, some of my new multitasking ideas were awesome and saved me tens of seconds, but some of them were total failures. I'd be a complete a-hole if I didn't share these life-changing scientific results with you, so here goes:

Peeing While You Brush Your Teeth

Okay, yeah, so I've never actually tried this one (total lie) but here's why I think it would be awesome. You're brushing your teeth, you quickly sit to pee, you keep brushing your teeth, and voilà! You just saved yourself thirty seconds. I mean yeah, you have to be okay with the toothbrush being exposed to the pee-pee particles floating in the air, but if your ass is as big as mine, it covers up the toilet hole anyway and there really aren't any toilet particles floating out. And if your ass is skinny and doesn't cover the whole bowl, then I kinda hate you a little and don't care if toilet particles get on your toothbrush. Shit, did I just say that out loud? Please note, I said PEEING. It is NOT okay to do this if you are pooping because (a) that's disgusting, and (b) if your mouth is minty and on fire you'll have to prematurely pinch the loaf to get to the sink to spit.

SCIENTIFIC CONCLUSION FOR PEEING:
WIN

SCIENTIFIC CONCLUSION FOR POOPING:
FAIL

Doing
Other
Stuff While You Brush Your Teeth

Okay, seriously, how the hell am I supposed to get everything done in the morning before school AND have good hygiene? Hmmm, what if I brush my teeth at the same time I'm getting dressed? Ennnhhh, bad idea. Because then I can either get dressed with my left hand, which takes twice as long because I suck at using my left hand, or I can brush my teeth with my left
hand and end up jabbing myself in the cheek over and over again and then miss my mouth completely and get a streak of toothpaste down the side of my face, which ends up taking extra precious seconds to clean. Or I totally forget I'm even brushing my teeth at all and the toothbrush lies dormant in my mouth while I put my panties on and all I've done is let my teeth marinate in Colgate for the past five minutes. And why the hell did I just use the word “panties”? Ewwww. Sorry.

SCIENTIFIC CONCLUSION:
FAIL

Thinking About Important Shit While You're Having Sex with Your Hubby

Last night my hubby was basically a man in heat and I was like, I would lovvvve to have sex with you right now but do you know how much shit I have going on? No can do. And then I realized that if “too busy” were a legitimate excuse, we would never do it. So hey, here's an idea. What if I could do something else at the same time and kill two penises with one stone? (I promise, honey, it's just a saying.) Like come up with options for my kid's science experiment. Or figure out a Girl Scout project for our meeting on Wednesday. Or think about what I'm cooking for dinner this week. “Yes, YES, Mexican lasagna, that's it!! Oh my God, right there!! With guacamole!” And if you think my hubby would be offended if he knew I was multitasking, so what? “Honey, would you rather have sex with me while I'm thinking about something else or would you rather not have sex at all?” Yeah, that's what I
thought. Plus, if I'm thinking about our dinner menu, then I can't be thinking about Channing Tatum, right? I mean hypothetically speaking, of course.

SCIENTIFIC CONCLUSION:
WIN

Blowing My Nose When I'm Doing the Laundry

So I'm gathering the kids' dirty clothes together so I can do the eighth load of laundry this week when my nose starts to run. I mean sure, it would only take about 20 seconds to stop and get a tissue, but remember, that's a third of a minute and that shit adds up. I know what I can do. I mean all this laundry is getting washed anyways, so can't I just grab something from the hamper and use it like a hanky? Brilliant!!! Until I bury my nose into a piece of clothing and realize it's the butt of Holden's pajamas and I just got a noseful of dookie smell. Awesome.

SCIENTIFIC CONCLUSION:
FAIL

Okay, okay, by now you get the picture and you're probably like, STFU already, so here are a few more quick ones to help you make the right multitasking decisions throughout your day.

Putting Your Kid's Shoes on While He's on the Toilet

Particularly awesome, because my kid always says he has to poop the second we're heading out the door. Every. F'ing. Time.

SCIENTIFIC CONCLUSION:
WIN

Talking on the Phone While You're Doing a Target Run

Have you ever seen people who do this? They basically look like zombies walking around Target picking up random items and pretending to look at the items when really they're focused on their phone conversation and it doubles the amount of time they spend there. Plus, they end up with a bunch of random shit in their cart and their bill at the cash register is $900 instead of $700, when really they only came in for toothpaste in the first place.

SCIENTIFIC CONCLUSION:
FAIL

Calling Someone While You're Getting a Pap Smear

SCIENTIFIC CONCLUSION:
FAIL FOR OBVIOUS REASONS

Chugging Hershey's Syrup While Cooking Dinner

The way I see it, I'm not ruining my appetite by doing this. I'm just multitasking so I don't have to waste all that time eating dessert later. Bwhahahahaha, like I'm not gonna have a second dessert at 9 p.m. And a third right before I head upstairs to bed.

SCIENTIFIC CONCLUSION:
WIN!!!!!!!!

(Side note, do you see me doing this without getting a stream of chocolate on my face? This is a serious skill that has taken me years to master. Seriously, try it. And that's an order.)

So that's about it. I'll bet you're like wayyyy smarter than I am and can come up with some even brillianter ways to multitask and save yourself all sorts of awesome time. You're welcome, and good luck!!

Sometimes instead of pushing 2:00 on the microwave, I push 2:22 because then I don't waste time pushing multiple buttons. Yes, this is the kind of shit I think about.

BOOK: I Want My Epidural Back
3.82Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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