When babies are born they’re basically a-holes, right? They cry and get what they want. They wake you up in the middle of the night and get what they want. They demand food immediately and if they don’t get it right away, they just keep screaming until they do. They poop on people. They vomit on people. They pull hair. They grab your boobs without asking. Etc. etc. etc. And even though it’s a-hole behavior, it’s kind of adorable and acceptable because they’re cute little babies.
And then when they turn into toddlers, that stuff starts to get a little annoying. Like when an itty-bitty newborn screams and cries for milk, you’re like, “Awwww, are you a thirsty little baby?” But when a toddler wants a cheese stick and they’re a messy pile of snot and tears because you didn’t walk to the refrigerator fast enough, you’re like, “Calm the F down, it’s coming.” That’s right, not as cute.
Now imagine a grownup doing all this stuff. Throwing a tantrum in the middle of the conference room because some intern didn’t wheel in the lunch order on time. Or having a complete meltdown because someone cut in line at Bed Bath & Beyond. Or going berserk on an airplane because they’re sick and tired of sitting in a cramped seat. Yup, when grownups do stuff like this, we hear about them on the evening news. A-holes, right?
So basically, as parents, we have 18 years to turn our kids into well-adjusted, kind, awesome, rule-abiding human beings by squeezing all the a-holiness out of them. And unfortunately, no one’s invented an a-hole juicing machine yet (ewww, they would definitely have to name it something different). So until someone invents that (come onnnn, Shark Tank), it’s up to us to help our kiddos grow up to be non a-holes.
This book shows just a few of the ways I’m attempting to squeeze the a-holiness out of my children before they fly the coop. It seems to be working so far. Usually. Sometimes. Like last Sunday, from 2:47 to 2:53 pm, my kids were well-behaved angels. So I recorded every minute of their angelic behavior and posted it on Instagram and claimed they act like this all the time. Just kidding. But seriously, all kids act like douchenuggets because they’re still learning what’s okay and what’s not. The way I see it, kids who act douchey are douchenuggets, but adults who act douchey are douchebags. Side note: If you’re offended by my language, stop reading now. This is not the book for you. Put it down, back away, or feel free to host one of those big bonfire book-burning parties (say that ten times quickly!) and tell all your sensitive friends to buy my book too and you guys can all burn it together. I’ll make money, you’ll warm your toesies, and we’ll all be hunky-dory.
Okay, so have all the prudes left the building? Then hells yeah, let’s get down to F’ing business. So WTF was I saying? Oh yeahhh, how do we stop our douchenuggets from growing up to be douchebags? Are you ready for the magic answer? Drum roll please. Badadadadadadada . . . I have no idea. I know what you’re thinking. “WHAT?!! I just spent $15 on this book!” ($0 if you were brilliant and checked it out at the library and are willing to hold a book that other people have held while they’re pooping.)
But here’s the thing. None of us really know WTF we’re doing. That mom who rolled her eyes at you because you let your kid wear pajamas in public? She doesn’t know what she’s doing. That crunchy expert who claims to know how to convince all kids to eat organic raw vegetables covered in flaxseed? She doesn’t know what she’s doing. That mom who lives across the street in that giant McMansion whose perfectly-coiffed kiddos are always wearing matchy-matchy Lilly Pulitzer dresses? She doesn’t know what she’s doing. I mean, they all act like they know what they’re doing, but I guarantee there’s been a time or two that they’ve all broken down in tears and curled up at the bottom of their closet in the fetal position around a bottle of vodka or a chocolate candy bar or a flaxseed vegan nut wafer (I just made that up). But seriously, NONE of us REALLY know WTF we’re doing because there’s no magic answer or instruction manual when it comes to parenting. And kids are like snowflakes—every one is different. Of course, kids these days are like snowflakes in other ways too, but I’ll get to that later. So anyways (yes, I purposely use fake words sometimes because it helps my mistakes blend in like I did them on purpose), if I don’t know all the magic answers, who am I to write a book about it?
I’m just your average mom.