Moo blogger explains why it sucks to be moo
Posted by aliceblue
|
Re: Moo blogger explains why it sucks to be moo June 23, 2013 |
OMG! Sancti-Moo makes it SO easy!
larious
Occasionally I come across a blog post saying something like this “So all my friends are having babies and I just really don’t understand why they’ve all lost themselves. I mean does having a baby mean the end of life? Of adulthood? Why do they put their kids first all the time? Why can’t they hang out with friends like they used to, drink some cocktails, GET A LIFE?†Oh, I doubt that sentiment is just an "occasional" thing, what with breeders shitting our fresh loaves left and right these days, willy nilly, and with little planning and thought.
I read a blog recently by some childless bag – wait, I didn’t mean that – I meant “blogger†who was simply appalled, aghast, offended, by the way her friends had just morphed into these pathetic adult imposters, consumed by their children, simply lifeless. I would link to it but I’m afraid you all would slaughter her with your wit and intelligence. That was not a sarcastic statement. Wow, in just a few short sentences she manages to call her unchilded friends, albeit it indirectly, a "bag", accused her unchilded friends of being witless and unintelligent, and then doesn't understand why the sainted and The Almighty Moo™ is such a hated entity.
I’ll be honest, the first thing I wanted to do was rant like a psycho, but I’m not going to. Because I’m above that. Right? Oh of course I’m not. I think I’ve proven that enough times. AS HAVE most all the other Co-Moos
However, in an entirely uncustomary gesture, I’m going to give these people the benefit of the doubt and assume they aren’t simply pricks, but instead really just don’t get it. Yeah, I know. Mother Theresa and whatnot. Yeah, we "get it", thank you very much. You feel superior for having sluiced, you are angry you bought into the fairy tale white picket fence and 2.5 kids glory filled life you only recently learned doesn't exist, you are bitter your attention for sluicing has waned LONG ago, you are lazy, fat, and woefully unorganized, among other unsavory things. It doesn't have to be that way dummy, you know that, and THIS is the cornerstone of your self loathing and seething anger towards the unchilded.
So, as a sort of public service announcement to people who write things like the aforementioned, I’m going to provide a little insider info on the topic, hoping to help them understand how their new-parent friends morphed into such despicably boring, haggard versions of their former selves. First of all, childless people who can’t understand the degradation of your friends (NOT ALL CHILDLESS PEOPLE, OBVIOUSLY), I need to clear something up, right out of the gate: Most of the time you’re hanging out with us, WE’RE FUCKING FAKING IT. We only LOOK normal. We’re not normal. We’re losing our shit. But we don’t want you to see that because you’re childless and won’t understand. You’re still living in this alternate universe where things like “dinner dates†are enjoyable, or at least have the potential to be enjoyable. It isn't an alternate universe, it's a CHOSEN lifestyle in the here and now. Oh, don't worry, it sounds like your friends just haven't sluiced YET, so plenty soon enough you can bask in the giddiness of knowing that they too are among the suffering cows like yourself. Obviously you don't know any childFREE people, which makes sense because we don't like to hang out with breeders and therefore wouldn't be privy to your bullshit of "faking it" or of looking normal, or whatever. ChildFREE people don't give a shit about your self imposed plight, so your public service announcement has likely landed onto deaf ears. IF any of your temporarily childless friends happen up upon your rude blog, you probably won't have to worry about any further dinner invitations, even after they have kids themselves.
Allow me to illustrate:I can hardly wait and am anxious with antici-pation!
You want us to “hang out with friends†more often, presumably without kids, right? Did I get that right? Okay, check this out.We’re meeting you and your significant other for dinner. Dinner on a Friday evening at a restaurant 45-minutes away, at 7pm. That sounds, easy, RIGHT? Well yes it is. For you:.
Here’s your experience: Come home from work, screw around on the internet, have a glass of wine, a snack, hop in the shower, bathe yourself leisurely, get out, towel off, peruse the closet, get dressed. Have your partner get ready. Pour another class of wine, maybe chat with a friend on speakerphone while you put on make-up, do your hair, put on shoes, get in the car at 6pm so you don’t have to rush…order a cocktail when you get there. Have dinner with friends, go out for a drink after, dance a little to work off dinner. Come home around 1am, have sex, sleep til 9am or 10am. Wake up to some coffee, chat about how sad it is that your friends have all “lost themselves†after they have kids. FFS! Could she be any more stereotypical? She wants her unchilded friends to understand and respect HER, but she obviously has NO respect for them or even a rudimentary understanding of THEIR lives. WHAT A CUNT.
Do you know what this little soiree looks like for us? No, no you don’t. But because I love you, I’m going to tell you. Here you go. Dinner date with another couple at 7pm on a Friday at a restaurant 45 minutes away for a couple with a toddler and a baby…Begin worrying about it approximately 5 minutes after the date is made because: Who the fuck is going to watch the kids? She can't find someone or arrange for child care with over a week's notice? WHY NOT? My parents never had trouble getting a baby sitter, even for a week end and there were three of use ages 8 and under! There are grand parents, younger cousins and inlaws always looking to make some money, aunts, uncles, siblings,and neighbors with kids too who would do this happily IF they'd ever reciprocate, and then there's just good old fashioned teen girls in the neighborhood, kids of co-workers, and neighbors who are ALWAYS wanting to make some money on the week end, always!
Grandparents? Best option, but they live 30 minutes away, which will make getting to the restaurant in time impossible because there’s Friday traffic. You could leave work early but not really because you already did it twice this month for baby doctor appointments. Plus, after dinner you’ll have to drive super far and Childless Friends are probably going to want drinks after…Hire a babysitter? Well, at $20.00/hour, from 6pm until at least 11pm, that’s $100, which will make this evening (not including gas) at least $200. Holy SHIT! THAT IS SUCH BULLSHIT! No baby sitter charges $20 an hour, unless they are hiring a fucking professional nanny! WHO would hire a $20 an hour baby sitter for a few hours out on a fucking Friday night? No, this cow, like all of the others, is HUGELY exaggerating
One of us goes and the other stays home? No, then our Childless Friends will think we’ve lost ourselves and can’t “date†anymore, and all those stupid online forums say you simply MUST “date†your husband if you want the marriage to last. DAMNITALLTOHELL. Guess we’ll go with babysitter. Hire the babysitter. Spend the next two weeks going about your life, completely forgetting about the dinner date because life is insane and chaotic and never stops, until that afternoon when the reminder pops up on your iPhone and you almost wet your pants in fear (shoulda done those kegels!). God, she had TWO weeks to find a sitter for ONE night and still had trouble even remembering the dinner engagement? HOW do these cows remember anything then? I suppose that goes a long way in explaining the rash of Locked in Hot Car Syndrome™ cases.
Race from work to daycare, call husband fifty times to remind him of the damn dinner date because you KNOW he’s forgotten. Plus, he was up all night with the baby who’s teething so he’ll definitely not be into this. Holy shit he’s teething! OMG I’m leaving my baby when he’s teething! I can’t do it. Call husband to announce teething and discuss how the hell you’re going to leave an insane infant with a non-family-member. Realize your husband has no opinion on the subject. DEMAND A DIVORCE IMMEDIATELY (in your head). Figure out on your own what to do (as always, I mean seriously): baby Tylenol. Remember you used the last of it. Remember husband was supposed to buy some yesterday. Ask husband. Hear “I forgot.†KICK HIM IN THE BALLS. (in your head). Tell him to get Tylenol on the way home and you can’t live under these conditions anymore. Answer approximately 750 questions from your toddler girl as you drive home trying to figure out the maelstrom ahead of you. Pull in the driveway. Leave all the kids’ daycare stuff (bags bottles, nap mat sheet, 12 pounds of paperwork, art work, etc.) in the car because you can’t handle it. Blah-blah-blah, just a bunch of bullshit prattle indicative of the fact she is WOEFULLY unorganized.
Walk in the door, realize you left one of the dogs in the house so there’s piss on the kitchen floor. The toddler just walked in it. It’s 5:35. Freak out because it’s 5:35. HOW GROSS. Letting dog piss and shit marinate on the floor is nasty and irresponsible and has nothing at all to do with Moo-hood and everything to do with being a fat, lazy, and nasty bitch.
s
Try to plug toddler into television. Nurse pissed off infant. Make sure there’s pumped milk in the freezer. O thank god, two bags. Hear the husband come home. Want to punch him in the face. Give baby to husband and get in the shower. Remember you haven’t shaved in three weeks and the only dress you have that fits your post-partum body is knee-length, which requires shaving but THERE’S NO TIME. Consider other clothes. None. Tights? Yeah right.
Shave. Wonder how to do your hair. Wonder how long it’s been. Wonder if you even have a blow-dryer.HOW filthy and nasty she hasn't taken care of her personal grooming in WEEKS. WHY is she still tit feeding anyway since it's a toddler??
Hear your baby screaming. Try to block it out. Babysitter arrives. Get out of the shower while yelling instructions to the babysitter through the door. Wonder why the hell your husband isn’t getting ready. Yell at him too. Wonder if you have any clean underwear.Put on Spanx, nursing pads and the dress. Look for shoes. Realize there’s only one shoe. Remember toddler playing in the closet this morning so you could take care of the baby. Holy fuck the toddler has REMOVED THE SHOE. No, that so didn't happen and if it did it is ALL her fault! My former childed husband had a 2 y/o when I married him and she was at my house a great deal of the time and did NOT, ever, plunder through my closet or personal belongings.Like when I was a kid, parents' belongings are OFF LIMITS and under lock and key if necessary.
The only dress shoes I have! Mayday! Mayday! I’m missing a shoe. It’s been deposited somewhere by a TODDLER, which means it’s in the ONLY PLACE IN THE WORLD you’d NEVER think it will be, possibly in the toilet. Run around the house like a madwoman looking for the godforsaken shoe, find it in the dog crate, chewed by the other bastard canine. Put on shoes that don’t go with the dress at all, realize Childless Friends will think you’ve lost all fashion sense. Realize you have. See that it’s 6:10. Squeal. Freak out at your husband. Notice he’s dressed, but wearing a shirt that needs about 20-minutes of ironing. Also observe he hasn’t showered even though he’s an ironworker. (Wait. Maybe that’s just me.)If her husband hasn't showered and is wearing a dirty and wrinkled shirt out to a restaurant, then HE is a fucking fat and lazy slob TOO. :headbrick
Bolt out the door anyway, leaving behind a forlorn toddler and a baby who’s teething and OMG the dog piss on the floor and shit I forgot to tell the babysitter about the Tylenol and potty-training and not to put the breast milk in the microwave – wait, I told her that, right? – I mean she’s done it before. Look down and see baby vomit. OH, she has a toddler AND a loaf, so at least that explains the tit feeding, but nothing else!
On the only dress you have that fits.And WHOSE fault is that?
Wipe it off. Tell yourself breast milk puke doesn’t smell that bad.
Get in the car, start driving, spend the whole trip on the phone with the baby sitter, giving her details you forgot and trying to apply make-up. Arrive at the restaurant at 7:10, smiling calmly with your hand in your husband’s, ready to “enjoy a relaxing, adult evening.†Act pulled-together, happy to be there, adult, social. “How are you guys? How are the kids?†“We’re great! It’s so great to see you! It’s just so great to be OUT, having a LIFE!†Want to vomit as you realize your baby is at home, teething, without you. Go through dinner…enjoying yourself, sort of, but also kind of faking it, because honesty will scare these people away and possibly result in the discontinuation of humanity. I mean who’s going to have kids when they realize The Truth? SUCH complete bullshit:BS
Wait, was that my outside voice? Totally didn’t mean that. So there, Childless People wondering why we’re such losers, do you get it a little better? Are you seeing things a little more clearly? No, it's about what I had always thought, which is Sancti-Moos are a bunch to be avoided at all costs.
down
Maybe you see two adults who’ve added this baby to their lives, like an accessory, like a pet, like this new cute thing you carry around when you want it and drop when you don’t.
That’s what you see. We, however, are LIVING something different. We are having fundamentally different experiences of reality. At every moment. In every interaction. We may look normal, we may look right there with ya, but you have NO IDEA HOW MUCH WORK it took to get ourselves to where we sit right now, in this restaurant, dressed, childless… So please, don’t hate, when after a bottle or two of wine you and your Childless Cohort suggest a cocktail at this great place down the road and we look at you with a smile, trying to muster the energy, remembering the babysitter money rolling down the bowl of the toilet, and the toddler snoozing in her big-girl bed, and the baby…who could be crying…wait, do I have a text from the babysitter? – and the exhaustion, of the new life, the priorities that have shifted. This tripe is more boring than anything else.
Don’t hate, just see, that you aren’t the most important thing in our lives anymore, and frankly, neither is that damn cocktail. Also, we’re really fucking tired. Like really, really really tired. Like a tired that rests on our bones, all the time. And there’s no sleeping in for those “adult imposters.â€You know, those people with “no life,†raising life, providing life, trying to adjust to a new life, remembering their old life, with people like you in it, kind of wishing we could go back there, when things were simpler and easier and more glamorous, and there was leisure and after-dinner cocktails, and…then again, maybe not.Riiiight.
Of course in closing she feels compelled to point out how important and unselfish she is with all that "providing life", "raising life" SANCTI-MOO BULLSHIT.
------- ------- ------- ------- ------- ------- ------- ------- ------- ------- ------- ------- ------- -------
If YOU are the "exception" to what I am saying, then why does my commentary bother you so much?
I don't hate your kids, I HATE YOU!
lariousOccasionally I come across a blog post saying something like this “So all my friends are having babies and I just really don’t understand why they’ve all lost themselves. I mean does having a baby mean the end of life? Of adulthood? Why do they put their kids first all the time? Why can’t they hang out with friends like they used to, drink some cocktails, GET A LIFE?†Oh, I doubt that sentiment is just an "occasional" thing, what with breeders shitting our fresh loaves left and right these days, willy nilly, and with little planning and thought.
I read a blog recently by some childless bag – wait, I didn’t mean that – I meant “blogger†who was simply appalled, aghast, offended, by the way her friends had just morphed into these pathetic adult imposters, consumed by their children, simply lifeless. I would link to it but I’m afraid you all would slaughter her with your wit and intelligence. That was not a sarcastic statement. Wow, in just a few short sentences she manages to call her unchilded friends, albeit it indirectly, a "bag", accused her unchilded friends of being witless and unintelligent, and then doesn't understand why the sainted and The Almighty Moo™ is such a hated entity.
I’ll be honest, the first thing I wanted to do was rant like a psycho, but I’m not going to. Because I’m above that. Right? Oh of course I’m not. I think I’ve proven that enough times. AS HAVE most all the other Co-Moos
However, in an entirely uncustomary gesture, I’m going to give these people the benefit of the doubt and assume they aren’t simply pricks, but instead really just don’t get it. Yeah, I know. Mother Theresa and whatnot. Yeah, we "get it", thank you very much. You feel superior for having sluiced, you are angry you bought into the fairy tale white picket fence and 2.5 kids glory filled life you only recently learned doesn't exist, you are bitter your attention for sluicing has waned LONG ago, you are lazy, fat, and woefully unorganized, among other unsavory things. It doesn't have to be that way dummy, you know that, and THIS is the cornerstone of your self loathing and seething anger towards the unchilded.
So, as a sort of public service announcement to people who write things like the aforementioned, I’m going to provide a little insider info on the topic, hoping to help them understand how their new-parent friends morphed into such despicably boring, haggard versions of their former selves. First of all, childless people who can’t understand the degradation of your friends (NOT ALL CHILDLESS PEOPLE, OBVIOUSLY), I need to clear something up, right out of the gate: Most of the time you’re hanging out with us, WE’RE FUCKING FAKING IT. We only LOOK normal. We’re not normal. We’re losing our shit. But we don’t want you to see that because you’re childless and won’t understand. You’re still living in this alternate universe where things like “dinner dates†are enjoyable, or at least have the potential to be enjoyable. It isn't an alternate universe, it's a CHOSEN lifestyle in the here and now. Oh, don't worry, it sounds like your friends just haven't sluiced YET, so plenty soon enough you can bask in the giddiness of knowing that they too are among the suffering cows like yourself. Obviously you don't know any childFREE people, which makes sense because we don't like to hang out with breeders and therefore wouldn't be privy to your bullshit of "faking it" or of looking normal, or whatever. ChildFREE people don't give a shit about your self imposed plight, so your public service announcement has likely landed onto deaf ears. IF any of your temporarily childless friends happen up upon your rude blog, you probably won't have to worry about any further dinner invitations, even after they have kids themselves.
Allow me to illustrate:I can hardly wait and am anxious with antici-pation!
You want us to “hang out with friends†more often, presumably without kids, right? Did I get that right? Okay, check this out.We’re meeting you and your significant other for dinner. Dinner on a Friday evening at a restaurant 45-minutes away, at 7pm. That sounds, easy, RIGHT? Well yes it is. For you:.
Here’s your experience: Come home from work, screw around on the internet, have a glass of wine, a snack, hop in the shower, bathe yourself leisurely, get out, towel off, peruse the closet, get dressed. Have your partner get ready. Pour another class of wine, maybe chat with a friend on speakerphone while you put on make-up, do your hair, put on shoes, get in the car at 6pm so you don’t have to rush…order a cocktail when you get there. Have dinner with friends, go out for a drink after, dance a little to work off dinner. Come home around 1am, have sex, sleep til 9am or 10am. Wake up to some coffee, chat about how sad it is that your friends have all “lost themselves†after they have kids. FFS! Could she be any more stereotypical? She wants her unchilded friends to understand and respect HER, but she obviously has NO respect for them or even a rudimentary understanding of THEIR lives. WHAT A CUNT.
Do you know what this little soiree looks like for us? No, no you don’t. But because I love you, I’m going to tell you. Here you go. Dinner date with another couple at 7pm on a Friday at a restaurant 45 minutes away for a couple with a toddler and a baby…Begin worrying about it approximately 5 minutes after the date is made because: Who the fuck is going to watch the kids? She can't find someone or arrange for child care with over a week's notice? WHY NOT? My parents never had trouble getting a baby sitter, even for a week end and there were three of use ages 8 and under! There are grand parents, younger cousins and inlaws always looking to make some money, aunts, uncles, siblings,and neighbors with kids too who would do this happily IF they'd ever reciprocate, and then there's just good old fashioned teen girls in the neighborhood, kids of co-workers, and neighbors who are ALWAYS wanting to make some money on the week end, always!
Grandparents? Best option, but they live 30 minutes away, which will make getting to the restaurant in time impossible because there’s Friday traffic. You could leave work early but not really because you already did it twice this month for baby doctor appointments. Plus, after dinner you’ll have to drive super far and Childless Friends are probably going to want drinks after…Hire a babysitter? Well, at $20.00/hour, from 6pm until at least 11pm, that’s $100, which will make this evening (not including gas) at least $200. Holy SHIT! THAT IS SUCH BULLSHIT! No baby sitter charges $20 an hour, unless they are hiring a fucking professional nanny! WHO would hire a $20 an hour baby sitter for a few hours out on a fucking Friday night? No, this cow, like all of the others, is HUGELY exaggerating
One of us goes and the other stays home? No, then our Childless Friends will think we’ve lost ourselves and can’t “date†anymore, and all those stupid online forums say you simply MUST “date†your husband if you want the marriage to last. DAMNITALLTOHELL. Guess we’ll go with babysitter. Hire the babysitter. Spend the next two weeks going about your life, completely forgetting about the dinner date because life is insane and chaotic and never stops, until that afternoon when the reminder pops up on your iPhone and you almost wet your pants in fear (shoulda done those kegels!). God, she had TWO weeks to find a sitter for ONE night and still had trouble even remembering the dinner engagement? HOW do these cows remember anything then? I suppose that goes a long way in explaining the rash of Locked in Hot Car Syndrome™ cases.
Race from work to daycare, call husband fifty times to remind him of the damn dinner date because you KNOW he’s forgotten. Plus, he was up all night with the baby who’s teething so he’ll definitely not be into this. Holy shit he’s teething! OMG I’m leaving my baby when he’s teething! I can’t do it. Call husband to announce teething and discuss how the hell you’re going to leave an insane infant with a non-family-member. Realize your husband has no opinion on the subject. DEMAND A DIVORCE IMMEDIATELY (in your head). Figure out on your own what to do (as always, I mean seriously): baby Tylenol. Remember you used the last of it. Remember husband was supposed to buy some yesterday. Ask husband. Hear “I forgot.†KICK HIM IN THE BALLS. (in your head). Tell him to get Tylenol on the way home and you can’t live under these conditions anymore. Answer approximately 750 questions from your toddler girl as you drive home trying to figure out the maelstrom ahead of you. Pull in the driveway. Leave all the kids’ daycare stuff (bags bottles, nap mat sheet, 12 pounds of paperwork, art work, etc.) in the car because you can’t handle it. Blah-blah-blah, just a bunch of bullshit prattle indicative of the fact she is WOEFULLY unorganized.
Walk in the door, realize you left one of the dogs in the house so there’s piss on the kitchen floor. The toddler just walked in it. It’s 5:35. Freak out because it’s 5:35. HOW GROSS. Letting dog piss and shit marinate on the floor is nasty and irresponsible and has nothing at all to do with Moo-hood and everything to do with being a fat, lazy, and nasty bitch.
sTry to plug toddler into television. Nurse pissed off infant. Make sure there’s pumped milk in the freezer. O thank god, two bags. Hear the husband come home. Want to punch him in the face. Give baby to husband and get in the shower. Remember you haven’t shaved in three weeks and the only dress you have that fits your post-partum body is knee-length, which requires shaving but THERE’S NO TIME. Consider other clothes. None. Tights? Yeah right.
Shave. Wonder how to do your hair. Wonder how long it’s been. Wonder if you even have a blow-dryer.HOW filthy and nasty she hasn't taken care of her personal grooming in WEEKS. WHY is she still tit feeding anyway since it's a toddler??
Hear your baby screaming. Try to block it out. Babysitter arrives. Get out of the shower while yelling instructions to the babysitter through the door. Wonder why the hell your husband isn’t getting ready. Yell at him too. Wonder if you have any clean underwear.Put on Spanx, nursing pads and the dress. Look for shoes. Realize there’s only one shoe. Remember toddler playing in the closet this morning so you could take care of the baby. Holy fuck the toddler has REMOVED THE SHOE. No, that so didn't happen and if it did it is ALL her fault! My former childed husband had a 2 y/o when I married him and she was at my house a great deal of the time and did NOT, ever, plunder through my closet or personal belongings.Like when I was a kid, parents' belongings are OFF LIMITS and under lock and key if necessary.
The only dress shoes I have! Mayday! Mayday! I’m missing a shoe. It’s been deposited somewhere by a TODDLER, which means it’s in the ONLY PLACE IN THE WORLD you’d NEVER think it will be, possibly in the toilet. Run around the house like a madwoman looking for the godforsaken shoe, find it in the dog crate, chewed by the other bastard canine. Put on shoes that don’t go with the dress at all, realize Childless Friends will think you’ve lost all fashion sense. Realize you have. See that it’s 6:10. Squeal. Freak out at your husband. Notice he’s dressed, but wearing a shirt that needs about 20-minutes of ironing. Also observe he hasn’t showered even though he’s an ironworker. (Wait. Maybe that’s just me.)If her husband hasn't showered and is wearing a dirty and wrinkled shirt out to a restaurant, then HE is a fucking fat and lazy slob TOO. :headbrick
Bolt out the door anyway, leaving behind a forlorn toddler and a baby who’s teething and OMG the dog piss on the floor and shit I forgot to tell the babysitter about the Tylenol and potty-training and not to put the breast milk in the microwave – wait, I told her that, right? – I mean she’s done it before. Look down and see baby vomit. OH, she has a toddler AND a loaf, so at least that explains the tit feeding, but nothing else!
On the only dress you have that fits.And WHOSE fault is that?
Wipe it off. Tell yourself breast milk puke doesn’t smell that bad.
Get in the car, start driving, spend the whole trip on the phone with the baby sitter, giving her details you forgot and trying to apply make-up. Arrive at the restaurant at 7:10, smiling calmly with your hand in your husband’s, ready to “enjoy a relaxing, adult evening.†Act pulled-together, happy to be there, adult, social. “How are you guys? How are the kids?†“We’re great! It’s so great to see you! It’s just so great to be OUT, having a LIFE!†Want to vomit as you realize your baby is at home, teething, without you. Go through dinner…enjoying yourself, sort of, but also kind of faking it, because honesty will scare these people away and possibly result in the discontinuation of humanity. I mean who’s going to have kids when they realize The Truth? SUCH complete bullshit:BS
Wait, was that my outside voice? Totally didn’t mean that. So there, Childless People wondering why we’re such losers, do you get it a little better? Are you seeing things a little more clearly? No, it's about what I had always thought, which is Sancti-Moos are a bunch to be avoided at all costs.
downMaybe you see two adults who’ve added this baby to their lives, like an accessory, like a pet, like this new cute thing you carry around when you want it and drop when you don’t.
That’s what you see. We, however, are LIVING something different. We are having fundamentally different experiences of reality. At every moment. In every interaction. We may look normal, we may look right there with ya, but you have NO IDEA HOW MUCH WORK it took to get ourselves to where we sit right now, in this restaurant, dressed, childless… So please, don’t hate, when after a bottle or two of wine you and your Childless Cohort suggest a cocktail at this great place down the road and we look at you with a smile, trying to muster the energy, remembering the babysitter money rolling down the bowl of the toilet, and the toddler snoozing in her big-girl bed, and the baby…who could be crying…wait, do I have a text from the babysitter? – and the exhaustion, of the new life, the priorities that have shifted.
This tripe is more boring than anything else.Don’t hate, just see, that you aren’t the most important thing in our lives anymore, and frankly, neither is that damn cocktail. Also, we’re really fucking tired. Like really, really really tired. Like a tired that rests on our bones, all the time. And there’s no sleeping in for those “adult imposters.â€You know, those people with “no life,†raising life, providing life, trying to adjust to a new life, remembering their old life, with people like you in it, kind of wishing we could go back there, when things were simpler and easier and more glamorous, and there was leisure and after-dinner cocktails, and…then again, maybe not.Riiiight.
Of course in closing she feels compelled to point out how important and unselfish she is with all that "providing life", "raising life" SANCTI-MOO BULLSHIT.------- ------- ------- ------- ------- ------- ------- ------- ------- ------- ------- ------- ------- -------
If YOU are the "exception" to what I am saying, then why does my commentary bother you so much?
I don't hate your kids, I HATE YOU!
|
Re: Moo blogger explains why it sucks to be moo June 24, 2013 |
What I read on the whole rant is:
"I made a shitty decision and now my life sucks. I don't have friends, I hate my husband and the only conversation I have is with people with underdeveloped brains. I am jelous of my friend who are still free to have a life. "
Why should be my problem if she has children, I wonder?
_______________________
“I was talking about children that have not been properly house-trained. Left to their own impulses and indulged by doting or careless parents almost all children are yahoos. Loud, selfish, cruel, unaffectionate, jealous, perpetually striving for attention, empty-headed, for ever prating or if words fail them simply bawling, their voices grown huge from daily practice: the very worst company in the world. But what I dislike even more than the natural child is the affected child, the hulking oaf of seven or eight that skips heavily about with her hands dangling in front of her -- a little squirrel or bunny-rabbit -- and prattling away in a baby's voice.â€
― Patrick O'Brian, The Truelove
lib'-er-ty: the freedom given to you to make the wrong decision, based on the reasoned belief that you will normally make the right one.
"I made a shitty decision and now my life sucks. I don't have friends, I hate my husband and the only conversation I have is with people with underdeveloped brains. I am jelous of my friend who are still free to have a life. "
Why should be my problem if she has children, I wonder?
_______________________
“I was talking about children that have not been properly house-trained. Left to their own impulses and indulged by doting or careless parents almost all children are yahoos. Loud, selfish, cruel, unaffectionate, jealous, perpetually striving for attention, empty-headed, for ever prating or if words fail them simply bawling, their voices grown huge from daily practice: the very worst company in the world. But what I dislike even more than the natural child is the affected child, the hulking oaf of seven or eight that skips heavily about with her hands dangling in front of her -- a little squirrel or bunny-rabbit -- and prattling away in a baby's voice.â€
― Patrick O'Brian, The Truelove
lib'-er-ty: the freedom given to you to make the wrong decision, based on the reasoned belief that you will normally make the right one.
|
Re: Moo blogger explains why it sucks to be moo June 24, 2013 |
1. Why do breeders never think in advance of breeding about their potential childcare situations? Finding childcare is always such a huge hassle to these people. Obviously they have no friends so that's out, but there are no famblee or neighbors they could pay? None at all?? NO it doesn't cost $20/hr. Idiots.
2. "all those stupid online forums say you simply MUST “date†your husband if you want the marriage to last. DAMNITALLTOHELL."
Since she's just discovering this piece of universal wisdom, we can assume it has thus far been a task that's never done, so single moodom for her should be ever so much easier.
3. Give the fucking kyd adult Tylenol. Tylenol is Tylenol. It's just that you have to do some basic math to get the dosage correct. I assume doing a simple calculation is beyond moos like this? :drool
4. Why do idiots like this fill their house with kyds AND animals that aren't housetrained? And then bitch about it? Why is it never a choice for harried idiots like this to NOT have pets they can't take care of? The dumbest breeders always have screeching out of control brats AND a houseful of neglected animals that piss and shit the place up. And it's not as if they have the dog for companionship, chances are they pay as much attention to the poor dog as they do their friends - it's an inconvenience. It's like they sit around and think, "What can I do to make my life as hard as possible?" I'm surprised they don't just put a herd goats and sheep and a couple of adult chimpanzees in their living rooms.
5. Is there a reason this woman has no clothes and shoes? She couldn't, in the two week interim, figure out a decent going-out outfit and that shaving with a Schick Intuition takes literally a minute and a half in the shower?
6. Husband's wrinkled ass: The dryer makes a terrific iron. Pop shirt in dryer for 20 minutes while you shower, shave, and do makeup. It will be mostly wrinkle free when you pull it out of the dryer and give it a good shake while it's hot. The fact that breeder moos and duhs can't figure out these basic shortcuts just means they're idiots. Pick up a fucking copy of Heloise's Household Hints or something, breeders!
7. "Want to vomit as you realize your baby is at home, teething, without you"
Why go at all if you have no intention of even trying to enjoy the evening?? What is the point? So your friends won't continue to hate you? Clearly you don't really care that they hate you, so all you're doing is playing charades with yourself because you know inside that you're a loser in denial and are just trying to prove to yourself otherwise and you're just blaming your self-imposed hardships on others in keeping with the theme of not taking responsibility for your own choices in life.
8. "but you have NO IDEA HOW MUCH WORK it took to get ourselves to where we sit right now"|
The vast majority of it had nothing to do with your brats, it was self-imposed disorganization, ignorance, and stupidity. Why is it too hard to lay out an outfit in advance? Why is it too hard to pop into the thrift store for some clothes and shoes when you have TWO WEEKS to figure that out? Why are you holding the infant after you've dressed, risking leaving the house with puke on your clothes? WHY? WHY be this damned dumb??
Bunch of brainless dogdamned idiots if you ask me.
When I was a toadler I remember my parents going out. My mom looked amazing! I screeched my ass off but she still left me with the neighborhood babbysitter and went out with my duh to have a good time dancing. She was gorgeous in a long, pink satin gown and her hair curled like Farrah Fawcett's. Then again she was always interested in looking fashionable. This moo doesn't give a fuck and she and her husband are slobs.
2. "all those stupid online forums say you simply MUST “date†your husband if you want the marriage to last. DAMNITALLTOHELL."
Since she's just discovering this piece of universal wisdom, we can assume it has thus far been a task that's never done, so single moodom for her should be ever so much easier.
3. Give the fucking kyd adult Tylenol. Tylenol is Tylenol. It's just that you have to do some basic math to get the dosage correct. I assume doing a simple calculation is beyond moos like this? :drool
4. Why do idiots like this fill their house with kyds AND animals that aren't housetrained? And then bitch about it? Why is it never a choice for harried idiots like this to NOT have pets they can't take care of? The dumbest breeders always have screeching out of control brats AND a houseful of neglected animals that piss and shit the place up. And it's not as if they have the dog for companionship, chances are they pay as much attention to the poor dog as they do their friends - it's an inconvenience. It's like they sit around and think, "What can I do to make my life as hard as possible?" I'm surprised they don't just put a herd goats and sheep and a couple of adult chimpanzees in their living rooms.
5. Is there a reason this woman has no clothes and shoes? She couldn't, in the two week interim, figure out a decent going-out outfit and that shaving with a Schick Intuition takes literally a minute and a half in the shower?
6. Husband's wrinkled ass: The dryer makes a terrific iron. Pop shirt in dryer for 20 minutes while you shower, shave, and do makeup. It will be mostly wrinkle free when you pull it out of the dryer and give it a good shake while it's hot. The fact that breeder moos and duhs can't figure out these basic shortcuts just means they're idiots. Pick up a fucking copy of Heloise's Household Hints or something, breeders!
7. "Want to vomit as you realize your baby is at home, teething, without you"
Why go at all if you have no intention of even trying to enjoy the evening?? What is the point? So your friends won't continue to hate you? Clearly you don't really care that they hate you, so all you're doing is playing charades with yourself because you know inside that you're a loser in denial and are just trying to prove to yourself otherwise and you're just blaming your self-imposed hardships on others in keeping with the theme of not taking responsibility for your own choices in life.
8. "but you have NO IDEA HOW MUCH WORK it took to get ourselves to where we sit right now"|
The vast majority of it had nothing to do with your brats, it was self-imposed disorganization, ignorance, and stupidity. Why is it too hard to lay out an outfit in advance? Why is it too hard to pop into the thrift store for some clothes and shoes when you have TWO WEEKS to figure that out? Why are you holding the infant after you've dressed, risking leaving the house with puke on your clothes? WHY? WHY be this damned dumb??
Bunch of brainless dogdamned idiots if you ask me.
When I was a toadler I remember my parents going out. My mom looked amazing! I screeched my ass off but she still left me with the neighborhood babbysitter and went out with my duh to have a good time dancing. She was gorgeous in a long, pink satin gown and her hair curled like Farrah Fawcett's. Then again she was always interested in looking fashionable. This moo doesn't give a fuck and she and her husband are slobs.
|
Re: Moo blogger explains why it sucks to be moo June 24, 2013 |
Quote
law
1. Why do breeders never think in advance of breeding about their potential childcare situations? Finding childcare is always such a huge hassle to these people. Obviously they have no friends so that's out, but there are no famblee or neighbors they could pay? None at all?? NO it doesn't cost $20/hr. Idiots.
2. "all those stupid online forums say you simply MUST “date†your husband if you want the marriage to last. DAMNITALLTOHELL."
Since she's just discovering this piece of universal wisdom, we can assume it has thus far been a task that's never done, so single moodom for her should be ever so much easier.
3. Give the fucking kyd adult Tylenol. Tylenol is Tylenol. It's just that you have to do some basic math to get the dosage correct. I assume doing a simple calculation is beyond moos like this? :drool
4. Why do idiots like this fill their house with kyds AND animals that aren't housetrained? And then bitch about it? Why is it never a choice for harried idiots like this to NOT have pets they can't take care of? The dumbest breeders always have screeching out of control brats AND a houseful of neglected animals that piss and shit the place up. And it's not as if they have the dog for companionship, chances are they pay as much attention to the poor dog as they do their friends - it's an inconvenience. It's like they sit around and think, "What can I do to make my life as hard as possible?" I'm surprised they don't just put a herd goats and sheep and a couple of adult chimpanzees in their living rooms.
5. Is there a reason this woman has no clothes and shoes? She couldn't, in the two week interim, figure out a decent going-out outfit and that shaving with a Schick Intuition takes literally a minute and a half in the shower?
6. Husband's wrinkled ass: The dryer makes a terrific iron. Pop shirt in dryer for 20 minutes while you shower, shave, and do makeup. It will be mostly wrinkle free when you pull it out of the dryer and give it a good shake while it's hot. The fact that breeder moos and duhs can't figure out these basic shortcuts just means they're idiots. Pick up a fucking copy of Heloise's Household Hints or something, breeders!
7. "Want to vomit as you realize your baby is at home, teething, without you"
Why go at all if you have no intention of even trying to enjoy the evening?? What is the point? So your friends won't continue to hate you? Clearly you don't really care that they hate you, so all you're doing is playing charades with yourself because you know inside that you're a loser in denial and are just trying to prove to yourself otherwise and you're just blaming your self-imposed hardships on others in keeping with the theme of not taking responsibility for your own choices in life.
8. "but you have NO IDEA HOW MUCH WORK it took to get ourselves to where we sit right now"|
The vast majority of it had nothing to do with your brats, it was self-imposed disorganization, ignorance, and stupidity. Why is it too hard to lay out an outfit in advance? Why is it too hard to pop into the thrift store for some clothes and shoes when you have TWO WEEKS to figure that out? Why are you holding the infant after you've dressed, risking leaving the house with puke on your clothes? WHY? WHY be this damned dumb??
Bunch of brainless dogdamned idiots if you ask me.
When I was a toadler I remember my parents going out. My mom looked amazing! I screeched my ass off but she still left me with the neighborhood babbysitter and went out with my duh to have a good time dancing. She was gorgeous in a long, pink satin gown and her hair curled like Farrah Fawcett's. Then again she was always interested in looking fashionable. This moo doesn't give a fuck and she and her husband are slobs.
All your post is amazing, but I loved most the part I bolded. THIS. So much THIS.
I remember the same, too. And I remember being proud of my beautiful and well-cared for mother. I actually respected her more for that.
Those cows don't get it. Children are HAPPY when their parents have lives outside of them. It reassure them that it is not their job to make mooh and duh happy AND it teaches them how to do it as adults.
_______________________
“I was talking about children that have not been properly house-trained. Left to their own impulses and indulged by doting or careless parents almost all children are yahoos. Loud, selfish, cruel, unaffectionate, jealous, perpetually striving for attention, empty-headed, for ever prating or if words fail them simply bawling, their voices grown huge from daily practice: the very worst company in the world. But what I dislike even more than the natural child is the affected child, the hulking oaf of seven or eight that skips heavily about with her hands dangling in front of her -- a little squirrel or bunny-rabbit -- and prattling away in a baby's voice.â€
― Patrick O'Brian, The Truelove
lib'-er-ty: the freedom given to you to make the wrong decision, based on the reasoned belief that you will normally make the right one.
|
Re: Moo blogger explains why it sucks to be moo June 24, 2013 |
Quote
kidlesskim
OMG! Sancti-Moo makes it SO easy!
Race from work to daycare, call husband fifty times to remind him of the damn dinner date because you KNOW he’s forgotten. Plus, he was up all night with the baby who’s teething so he’ll definitely not be into this. Holy shit he’s teething! OMG I’m leaving my baby when he’s teething! I can’t do it. Call husband to announce teething and discuss how the hell you’re going to leave an insane infant with a non-family-member. Realize your husband has no opinion on the subject. DEMAND A DIVORCE IMMEDIATELY (in your head). Figure out on your own what to do (as always, I mean seriously): baby Tylenol. Remember you used the last of it. Remember husband was supposed to buy some yesterday. Ask husband. Hear “I forgot.†KICK HIM IN THE BALLS. (in your head). Tell him to get Tylenol on the way home and you can’t live under these conditions anymore. Answer approximately 750 questions from your toddler girl as you drive home trying to figure out the maelstrom ahead of you. Pull in the driveway. Leave all the kids’ daycare stuff (bags bottles, nap mat sheet, 12 pounds of paperwork, art work, etc.) in the car because you can’t handle it. Blah-blah-blah, just a bunch of bullshit prattle indicative of the fact she is WOEFULLY unorganized.
Walk in the door, realize you left one of the dogs in the house so there’s piss on the kitchen floor. The toddler just walked in it. It’s 5:35. Freak out because it’s 5:35. HOW GROSS. Letting dog piss and shit marinate on the floor is nasty and irresponsible and has nothing at all to do with Moo-hood and everything to do with being a fat, lazy, and nasty bitch.
Try to plug toddler into television. Nurse pissed off infant. Make sure there’s pumped milk in the freezer. O thank god, two bags. Hear the husband come home. Want to punch him in the face. Give baby to husband and get in the shower. Remember you haven’t shaved in three weeks and the only dress you have that fits your post-partum body is knee-length, which requires shaving but THERE’S NO TIME. Consider other clothes. None. Tights? Yeah right.
Shave. Wonder how to do your hair. Wonder how long it’s been. Wonder if you even have a blow-dryer.HOW filthy and nasty she hasn't taken care of her personal grooming in WEEKS. WHY is she still tit feeding anyway since it's a toddler??
On the only dress you have that fits.And WHOSE fault is that?
Wipe it off. Tell yourself breast milk puke doesn’t smell that bad.
My comments below.
How about wearing nice slacks and a blouse? What type of work does she do that a quick shower will not suffice? Is she laboring in a meat-packing plant, a farm, or caring for incontinent people? If working in an office, she should already own clean decent clothing. Hair shouldn't be that complicated either. If she thinks going for dinner necessitate full salon treatment, maybe her standards are too high.eyes2 When I see my friends, I do not care weather they look like a supermodel or not. All I care about is their health and happiness. And the pleasure of spending time with them.
Sorry, only registered users may post in this forum.