Aug 122011

I never realize how much of a jerk parent I am until I say things out loud to co-workers and their fingers involuntarily look up the number for Child Protective Services.

The other day, Sandy and Barb were complaining about a co-worker who was coughing and sneezing all day.

“There goes Typhoid Mary again,” Sandy said, all annoyed.

“Oh, I know what you mean. Yesterday, Chooch sneezed like eighteen times in succession and I was like, ‘God, get a life!'” I said, feeling a real sense of camardarie.

“You told him to get a life?” Barb reiterated.

“Well yeah, because he was annoying me. I mean, who needs to sneeze that much?”

They both laughed, but I guess I kind of saw how maybe I could have chosen my words better. Or, you know, offered him a tissue instead.


I hurt my back today. I started to notice it while I was exercising, but I’m on an intense “I’m Fat and Should Die” kick so I sucked it up and continued through the pain. By the time I was done, I was laying on the floor, whimpering and unable to stand up.

Chooch took no pity on me.

“Stop being a crybaby,” he said. “It doesn’t hurt that bad, let’s go outside.”

So we went outside, where I writhed on the front porch and reminded him every 3 seconds of the excruciating pain I was in.

Then he scraped himself and got all Wounded Animal on me, but I scoffed. “You didn’t care about my back, so I don’t care about your scrape!”

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say. I only found that out when I came to work and told Barb and Kaitlin about how much of a bastard my own son was being to me while I clearly have a broken back.

“Erin!” Barb exclaimed. “Who’s the adult here?”

“But he hurt my feelings!” I argued.

“Yeah, but—he’s five!”

I mean, at least I’m not hitting him in the face with hot frying pans, right? Is that not good enough?

Well then, I guess tonight if you need me, I’ll be sitting in my room working on the parent rosary.

  6 Responses to “Parenting: I Hear the Learning Part Never Ends”

  1. You might be abrasive and slightly…immature, but everything else you do for him as a parent more than makes up for it, don’t worry!

  2. Someone once said “We survive our childhoods in spite of our parents, not because of them” and it has become my go to phrase on those days when I look at something I did and say “ooops”
    Shit happens at all stages in life. You’re giving him character and preparing him for growing up!

  3. If it makes you feel any better, we spend the 4th of July weekend teaching our 10-year-old how to make dry ice bombs and light off illegal fireworks and hide from the cops when they come because your neighbors call them after the bombs. We are horrible parents. But at least we’re fun!

    • I once had Henry’s son Blake looking up various pictures of STDs so we could recreate it as icing on cookies. He had a great time that night, but I was like, “Oh god, please don’t go home and tell your mom what we did.”

      Boundaries: I don’t have ’em.

      Parenting is awesome. Or so I hear. I’m mostly always in Big Sister mode. :/

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