Raising Children
The First Day: it was excruciating but now the payoff
Bringing a beautiful newborn baby into the world is the stupidest decision a woman can make. But unfortunately, you've done it and there's no putting it back. Abortion is no longer an option and chances are, it's alive. It has feelings, needs, demands and it wasn't born yesterday (not yet anyway), it knows who's responsible. You are. It also knows that there are laws about not giving it what it wants and it will manipulate you accordingly. First thing you have to do is feed it. You panic because you have no idea how. The local market doesn't have Purina Baby Chow and it has no teeth anyway. Relax. No, you don't have to regurgitate predigested worms into its mouth. Just do what you do to shut any adult male up, whip out your funbags. There is no need to be coy about it and sexy strip tease moves are inappropriate. Just shove the tit into the brats mouth and your done...except now you have a thing hanging from your tit.
Crying: a cry for help disguised as crying
You've gotten past the first hurdle—now's the fun part. That unappreciative little bastard is crying incessantly. “Where did I go wrong?” you may ask. You're an idiot. You put stuff into your child, of course it's going to come back out, and smelling a lot worse. You probably wrapped it up in that new blanket you bought thinking it will keep your baby warm and cozy for years. Throw it away, it's got poop all over it because you forgot to diaper your child. So you put it in the bathroom and tell the disgusting thing to clean itself, for gods sake. Sorry! It can't, you have to. Children are an excellent source of poop, pee, drool, snot, vomit and noise. Get used to it. You'll have an abundance of these for the next few years.
The #@!*% Twos: @#%#^@&*
You haven't had a good nights sleep because of that miniature slave driver demanding something every ten minutes, but at least you can tell it off and it won't talk back. Sorry, that's over now too, along with all your other pleasures in life. It talks now. Not only that, it's incredibly stupid and chatters about the dumbest things all day long. It will repeat everything you say at the most inappropriate times, tell everyone all your secrets, and complain about everything you do. What's worse, it doesn't know what anything is and it will ask you a thousand questions, never understanding any answer you give. When it runs out of questions, it will sit there and ask “why?” until you say “Because I said so, Dammit!” And then it will ask, “why did you said so dammit, mommy?” But you still can't kill it.
Abuse & Neglect: when is it necessary?
Always. You will find it absolutely necessary to beat your child and leave it in the car with the windows rolled up just to maintain your own sanity. Unfortunately it will only make your child worse. If you kill it, you're in trouble, if you abuse it, you're in trouble and if you don't get caught, you will simply have to deal with your own homegrown co-dependent sociopath for the rest of your life. Yes, abusing and neglecting children only turns them into lifelong con artists. Because they were taught at an early age that their needs will not be met by simply asking, they will make a lifelong career out of conning, scamming, manipulating, coercing, tricking and duping others into doing what they want. And they will become experts at it. At best, abusing your child-monster will turn it into a liar, a cheater, a compulsive addict, and a social misfit. At worst, a felon, a psychopath or a serial killer. And they don't make scholastic achievement bumper stickers for those things.
School Days: a slight reprieve just to remind you what you've lost.
You've gotten this far and you've managed to refrain from doing any irreversible damage to your devil's spawn. Now, finally it gets better. You get to ship them off to school for 6 hours a day. Six glorious hours of peace and quiet, doing all the things you used to do. Like dating and flirting and getting laid. Only one little problem. You've gained 40 pounds and you look like shit. So you lower your standards and increase your opportunities. You go to the grocery store in a miniskirt with no panties and flash the bag boy until he gives you a two minute roll in the shopping cart. Then it's time to pick up your little Nazi from school. Maybe it had a good experience and did well in the educational system. The child will become judgmental and preachy with you or even turn you in to the police for something you had in your sock drawer. Or maybe it had a bad experience in school and you have to console and comfort the insolent pest, even convince it to go back tomorrow for more of the same.
Puberty: natures way of saying, “Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha FUCK YOU!!!”
Just when you thought it couldn't get any worse, you realize that this unbearable hell that now comprises your life is nothing more than a supreme test. The job now is to desensitize yourself enough to cope with what seems like an endless downward spiral toward your slow torturous grueling death. Now you must compete with your child for the things you want. Except they are far better at getting those things than you are. They snatch them right out from under your nose and then taunt you with them. Not only that, they won't have a clue what to do with it once they've got it. So they'll just waste precious resources and nobody will get to screw the bag boy.
Your Child is an Adult: and pigs are flying out of my ass
Thank god it's over. You've raised your child and it's depleted you of every ounce of motivation, drive and strength you had. At least now you can start over from scratch. With your expectations lowered to about 5 percent of what you once hoped for in life, you now have the time and peace of mind to enjoy what little is left of your sorry existence. But wait! Something is terribly wrong! They haven't left! It seems you haven't done enough, haven't torn enough flesh from your body to be granted the right to shove this horrible mistake out the door for it to fend for itself. It's helpless and useless and it's clinging on to you for dear life! It's, and yours. You go to the closet for the shotgun feeling somehow comforted by the fact of finally having the resolve to do what you've been considering for all these years. You slowly raise the barrel to your mouth and in walks shithead. Your beloved offspring grabs the gun and after taking your entire life away from you, takes your death as well. You are now a walking zombie. You know nothing, you feel nothing, you say nothing. You return to the routine of everyday life, going through the motions mindlessly waiting for a terminal illness to mercifully end the abysmal doldrums.
Your Child is in its 30's: you've arrived at inner peace, who would have thunk it?
Well, the walking death that has been your life experience for the past ten years has seasoned you. Somehow from this whole sordid affair you've learned the supreme lesson of acceptance. A total letting go of the ego. Fear is no longer an issue because you've had the worst already. Now you look back and marvel at how easy it all could have been if you only knew then what you know now. The car stops, your child gets out of the drivers seat and politely walks around to the other side to let you out. The two of you walk hand in hand up to the large stone building and the doctor and a nurse escort you in to your ward where you will be monitored closely for any signs of enlightenment which, if detected, will be quickly squelched with medication. Sweet dreams.
By Numbsain...a guy who's been there and back and forgot his underpants
Brought to you by:
Johnsons Baby Oil...coldpressed, made from 100% organic babies.
Uglies Pull-Off Diaper...for kids who just never stop shitting themselves.
Baby-be-Gone...instant baby repellant spray
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