Why Kids Suck

There is hardly a topic out there that is more easily relatable than parenthood. Most everyone I know has popped out a kid or participated in the process in some form or fashion. You have this little person roaming around your house eating all your best snacks and you love them and they make you feel good about the world. But then sometimes they don't.

Sometimes they just suck. My 14 year old son knows everything. EVERY. FUCKING. THING. All of it. I have never wanted to throat chop anyone so bad in my whole life. His bedroom makes me physically ill. Between the old food that's now morphed into something resembling moldy beef jerky and the shiny, crusty coat of my discarded grand children that covers everything, I cannot bring myself to walk in there. I never claimed to know anything about the life and habits of an adolescent boy, but to say I was shocked at the amount of time spent masturbating is an understatement. We never have any hot water. I cant keep conditioner in the shower. His socks? No words. I keep Pedialyte in the house to make sure he's not getting dehydrated. Do I talk to him about this or even acknowledge the situation in any way? No, because that would make him uncomfortable. I just hang back, try to keep some electrolytes in him and pray that one day he turns back into a person that isn't hell bent on proving everything I say not only incorrect, but the dumbest thing ever said in the history of spoken language.

Lucky for me, I have two other children not currently losing their minds due to puberty. They still suck, though. Alexander is my middle son. He also knows everything. He's ten and swears he is the only one of his friends without an iphone. Someone please alert CPS. I'll admit that I sometimes wonder if my kids will grow up and shoot me in the face with an AK because I didn't cave and get them what they demanded. But most nights I sleep well knowing my children have exceptional muscle tone which I attribute to their trampoline and basketball goal and bikes and organized sports. You're welcome, you non-chubby little ass hats.

I lost my own mind for a while and was convinced to have a 3rd child in hopes of having a sweet, precious baby girl. Nope. Aydin the Hun is no doubt my comeuppance for a terribly lived past life, of which I have no recollection. He is the baby. He is A baby. He sucks. He whines when he doesn't get his way. He doesn't like to wear pants. He refuses to sleep alone. Someone has 'Aydin duty' every night. He doesn't do anything he doesn't want to, no matter how pertinent the task may be to his well being and personal safety. I once had to pull over on the side of the road to strap him back into his booster seat because he kept unbuckling himself. I got back into the van and pulled onto the road, only to be immediately pulled over by an officer and given a ticket for not wearing my seat belt. I'd HAD it on before I got out to fight with my turd kid.
Aydin - 965 Misty - 0

There is no peace. There is no quiet. There is only consequence. This is what I get for not drowning them all in the river like feral cats. Sadly, I'm now deeply affected by an illness known as Stockholm Syndrome. I not only feel love for and sympathize with my captors, occasionally, I find myself ENJOYING their company. I could leave. I could run away. But I won't. I'm their mom and one of these days they'll make me a grandmother. I'm keeping a journal of the terrible shit i'm going to buy and teach their children. I will make them pay. I will get the last laugh.