A Responsible Young Lady

When I was a kid, my family didn’t have much money. We always got by and I never went hungry but we did live in a garage for 12 years. I’m not sure exactly when or why I became aware of our financial status but I did and I was worried about it. I knew I had to do my part in helping the family cut back on expenses. When all the kids were asking for Tamagotchi’s for Christmas I said, “Why would I want that when I’ve already got a cat and a dog?! Mom, save your money. That toy is stupid.” When everyone wanted a Furby I was legitimately afraid of them and made sure my parents knew that I did NOT want one.

Perhaps my most important move as our family’s financial planner was cutting down on our food expenses. Every time that we made a trip to the grocery store my financially irresponsible 4 year old brother, Joe, would ask for a chocolate bar. Sure it was only a dollar but those dollars add up! And if Joe got a chocolate bar, everyone had to get one. That’s $5 every week! That was just not a necessary expense. Whenever we stepped up to the cash register I saw Joe’s eyes light up. While he eyed the Kinder Eggs I would be in his ear scream whispering “Joe! Joe! No! Do NOT. Do not ask for a chocolate bar. DON’T.” Joe would go “Whyyyyy?” mesmerized by the chocolate. I’m pretty sure I actually put my hand over his mouth a few times to keep him from asking. But somehow, he always did. And he almost always got his way. Then my dad would basically force me to pick one out for myself so that we both had a treat. 

During the car ride home I would begrudgingly eat my Kit Kat and glare at Joe’s chubby little chocolate smeared face. We would never get out of that garage if his reckless spending didn’t end.

I have only crapped myself once (post infancy) and I was a child when it happened. If that makes this any better.

I can’t remember exactly how old I was when it happened. I want to say 6 because it wasn’t like “Whoa, you are too old to be doing that” but it was also like “Well…you’re kind of too old to be doing that.” So, I was 6-ish and in bed. I was reading Little House on the Prairie before going to sleep and wearing one of my many adorable nightgowns. My bedroom was essentially in the hallway outside my brother’s room and Ari, my 12 year old brother, was in his room with the door open.

Now, when you grow up with brothers, farting isn’t really a big deal. It’s actually kind of the best way to get revenge. So, I’m in bed and I can feel a fart coming. It feels like a real big one. And I think, “Ari’s gonna be so mad. I can’t wait for this fart!” I’m laying there, ecstatic about the disgusting fart I’m about to have and then I poop. In my nightgown. In my bed. While reading Little House on the Prairie. I panic and yell out “Ari! I pooped!” He of course starts laughing hysterically and asking why I pooped. I explain, while gracefully scooping up the bottom of my nightgown to carry the poop to the toilet, that I thought it was a fart and then it was a poop. I delivered the crap to the toilet, changed my nightgown while my mom changed my sheets and went back to bed. No big deal. All I did was poop.

And no, I’m not sure why I wanted the world to know this about me.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve had an irrational fear of sinkholes. I have never seen a sinkhole and I don’t think I properly understand what they are. All I know is that, when I was a kid, my mom repeatedly warned me to be careful of them and I have been terrified ever since.

What confused me about her warning was that I don’t feel like you can really look out for sinkholes. I think you just kind of walk into it and then there you are. In a sinkhole.

Another question I have is whether this is quicksand or not. Is it? Because that’s how I always imagined it but I now feel like that couldn’t be true. Now that I’m thinking about it, is quicksand a real thing? It’s not, right? I have some serious Googling to do.

I checked. Quicksand is real. I’m glad that’s settled. But pretty upset that quicksand is real.

You’ve been a mom for, like, 5 minutes, calm down. I understand that you are absolutely, positively obsessed with your baby. It came from inside your body. That shit is crazy. I get it. You love this thing a lot. And while it is pretty cute, I don’t really give a shit about your baby. I just don’t. I’m sure it’s a perfectly fine baby but, eh. Not for me.

I can deal with the occasional baby photo. As I said, they’re pretty cute. But when you start posting constantly about how much you love motherhood, that’s it. I’m done with you. Especially when you bring it up for seemingly no reason at all. 

“Been coughing all night. I’m a sick mama.”

You know what would have been a sufficient thing to post?

“I have a cold.”

The fact that you’re a “mama” has nothing to do with it. And stop calling yourself mama. I hate it.

Now, some of you might be thinking, “But Mary, why don’t you just unfriend these idiots?” Believe me, I have unfriended as many of them as possible but sometimes that isn’t an option. Whether I’m related to them or have to see them all the time or they’re actually a very nice person and I feel like an asshole for hating them, there’s a reason I keep these people around.

If you’re a mother who I am friends with on facebook and you’re reading this thinking “Well, fuck you!” That’s probably fair. But I might not even be talking about you so…there’s that. You’re not all bad but those of you who are…get out.

Oh my god! You’re eating something delicious today! You’re so bad!
Except no, you’re not. At all. What the FUCK is bad about eating a cupcake? Nothing. They’re small, they’re pretty, they’re covered in icing. There is nothing bad about that. I don’t give a fuck that this is your “cheat day”. Just eat the cupcake and shut your goddamn mouth.

I have a suspicion that the only reason you bring up the fact that it’s your cheat day is so that we’ll all assume that you eat nothing but salads and high protein smoothies the rest of the time. But you know what, I don’t assume that. I don’t think anything about it at all because I could care less if you eat cupcakes all the time. They’re fucking delicious. I don’t blame you. I won’t think less of you if you just say “I’m going to eat that cupcake because I want to.”

Also, I hate when you share a dessert (that is clearly meant for one) with your friend. You’re just so dainty that you can’t handle a whole cookie? A whole fucking cookie? Get out.

I understand, you’re watching your weight but you need to understand that I do not give a fuck. When I see someone eating cake I don’t think “Holy shit, look at that fatass. I bet she does this every damn day.” I think “That’s a person eating cake.” And that’s literally all that goes through my brain. Just eat your cupcake and shut the hell up.

I’ve found that almost daily I discover a new “dealbreaker”. By “dealbreaker” I mean that if I was dating someone and discovered that any of these things applied to that person, I would break up with them. Like that. Deal broken. This is my (ongoing) list.

• If they order milk at dinner. (Definite psycho.)
• If they play in an 80s metal band.
• If they play in any metal band.
• If they have a ponytail.
• If they have a rat tail.
• If they come back from Mexico with braids.
• If they swear they once had an alien encounter. (No you didn’t.)
• If they wear a toque at all times.
• If they’re really into dirt bikes.
• If they don’t like comedy. (What?)
• If they are super religious.
• If they don’t like cats. (Get the fuck out.)
• If they never cut their finger nails.
• If they have, at some point in their adult life, shit their pants.
• If they LOVE the beach.
• If they take me on a hike.
• If they’re really into kayaking. (Never been faced with this but I’m sure it wouldn’t work out.)
• If they’ve uttered the words “Lady in the street but a freak in the bed” in any situation other than singing along to Ludacris’ verse in Usher’s “Yeah!”