Monday, April 19, 2010

Can anyone explain how the fuck I get stuck with the position of strict parent*?

Oh, right, something about how the other 50% of his DNA refuses to impose any rules or establish any sort of discipline.

Who the fuck leaves that job to the parent who rarely, if ever, manages to keep her own shoes tied? The parent who has blogged, on more than one occasion, about her underwear? The parent who spends an inordinate amount of time playing with dolls? The parent who considers an afternoon downloading music and playing solitaire online time-well-spent? The parent who can't manage to keep a house plant alive?

Who gives a parent like me any kind of responsibility at all?



*this post has been brought to you by pms and a strong desire for salty snacks and dark chocolate. Anyone who would be willing to deliver to me bacon, potato chips, pretzels, a salt lick or any combination thereof covered in chocolate will earn my complete and undying devotion, forever and ever, so help me blog.