Og Blogger on having a daughter - same ol' misoynist BS

Bret Spears spouting the usual drivel about daughters - made me a little stabby.

Linky

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1. No one ever told me how soon she might pay attention to boys.
Like many of us, I pretty much bought into the social anthropology that sees boys as the romantic aggressors and girls as, at best, generously tolerant of their pursuits. This all changed one night at the gym, when my daughter Mary Grace tugged at my arm and earnestly pronounced, "Daddy, do you see that boy over there? I like that boy!" As we sipped our smoothies in the gym café, she continually turned around to see where he was and watched him intently. At one point, he even came over to the table. His name was Harrison, and to her credit he was polite, cheerful and well-spoken. He treated her kindly and with great respect. The one drawback to her first crush was that he was a 6'4, 19-year-old with surfer good looks and the physique of a linebacker. He was the café worker. And she was 3. Seriously.

3 year olds do not have crushes for fuck's sake. 3 year olds "like" a lot of things, it doesn't mean they want to hump them. If that 3 year old has learned that kind of behaviour, she's either got it from her mother/sisters, or watching shit she shouldn't be watching on TV.

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2. No one ever told me how much more I could fall in love with my wife. Having a mini-version of Mary in the house cannot help but re-contextualize who she is to me. Many of the idiosyncrasies and dispositions that have tempted me to frustration over the years were suddenly recast in the person of our daughter, allowing me to see with new perspective and compassion some of her ways of being that seemed most alien to mine. To give an example: I never could understand the seemingly crushing disappointment that my wife experiences when plans fail. Even the most mundane engagements, extemporaneously altered, can greatly affect her mood. I once saw her have a complete breakdown in a cafeteria line as she watched the last carvings of "her" prime rib sandwich get distributed to the guest in front of her. Frighteningly, Mary Grace is exactly like this. But, since she is innocent, I am forced to compute her emotions using a more charitable calculus, and in doing so I find that it is a wild enthusiasm for living that lay at the heart of all these tiny tragedies. And, in turn, I come to see my wife. I used to think of those moments as childish; now I know they are beautifully childlike. There is a profound difference. I wish that I could go back and always love her as well as I do now. She deserves it.

Dude, if your missus is melting down over a prime rib sandwich, bird got issues. I say this with a certain amount of kindness and sympathy, in a way, because I've suffered from emotional dysregulation and mental health whatnots most of my life. It's not a fun, "childlike" way to live. Your wife needs help, because that shit aint normal, it's got nothing to do with her being a woman and being over-emotional. And the fact that the kid is learning that same behaviour? Double . That is seriously not healthy, and tolerating it because she's female and therefore expected to have next to zero emotional self control is really not going to help her when she's an adult and can't deal with minor shit going down in her life.

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3. No one ever told me that all of my previous attempts to understand the female anatomy would be completely revolutionized by a single nasty diaper.
The resultant force of uncovering a tiny baby vagina that is smeared with poop is staggering. I have literally stood over my daughter with a baby wipe in one hand and a magnifying glass in the other, surgically removing flecks of feces from her hoo-hoo.

Your poor daughter. I hope she never, ever reads this. Ever. Fuck parent bloggers and their oversharing. SOME SHIT (literally) IS PRIVATE and your daughter's "hoo-hoo" and toilet habits are one of those things that should never be discussed online, especially when your child can't consent to it. This is more typical modern parenting "my kids are my possession" horseshit. No, they are not. They are independent beings from you and they deserve to have some fucking privacy at an age when they can't decide for themselves whether it's ok for their parent to discuss their genitalia online.

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5. No one ever told me what waits for you on the flip side of all that tenderness.
It is very common for daddies of daughters to hear the quip, "Oh, you think you know what love is, but get ready! You've never felt anything like this." And, in part, they are right. The "daddy's girl" with her father wrapped around her little finger is well-documented. What is less discussed is all the immense RAGE that makes up the backside of the coin, that tender bit of tender. There is an indescribable, kinetic ferocity that gets into your bones. I can remember walking white-knuckled through a crowded farmer's market with baby girl in the stroller, unable to enjoy myself for the visions of violence I was prepared to mete out upon any member of the throng who so much as cut in line. It is a complex thing for the heart of a man to be, at once and by the same catalyst so moved to both give his life away and take it from another. Perhaps there is a lesson in it.

All this means is that having a kyd gave you an anger management issue. Probably the sleep deprivation and utter boredom, duh. Get a hobby or something. Or go to a psychiatrist. Maybe the same one as you need to send your wife to. That shit is also not normal.

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6. No one ever told me that the song "Butterfly Kisses" is the greatest song ever written.
No matter how sappy, cloying or contrived you believed it to be, once you have a daughter, it wields a mysterious and violent emotional power over you that is irresistible. Last summer at my friend's wedding, me and some of the other groomsmen spent the first half of the song laughing and scoffing... and then I spent the second half of the song sobbing as I danced with my daughter. Say it with me: "I am Bob Carlisle's b*tch."

- what is it with this weird incestuous daddy-daughter dates, dancing, etc?

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7. No one ever told me the extraordinary importance of the color pink.
Last Christmas, M.G. asked Santa for a "girl puppy." When Claus asked her what color she wanted, she unflinchingly said, "pink!" I have seen her moved to tears upon hearing the report that her pink plate was in the dishwasher and unavailable for use at dinner. A radiant, white-robed Jesus could manifest in her room and present her with a blue, winged unicorn and I honestly believe it would go something like this: "Um, 'hank you Jesus for my flying horse, but you forgot one 'hing -- PINK! Now, about that white robe..."

Kyd only likes pink because probably, that's all she was ever dressed in, and she's probably been conditioned that girls like pink. Girls are not fucking born liking pink any more than boys are born liking blue. It's a social construct, duh. But that's probably too difficult a concept for you to get your Og-brain around.

Oh yeah, and judging by that little chestnut you are also raising your little girl to be a spoilt little asshole.

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8. No one ever told me... well, maybe my wife had told me this, but I never really believed it: Lots of girls really do start thinking about planning their weddings from the time they are toddlers.
Personally, I blame Disney. Every piece of white linen in our home is fair game for a pretend wedding rehearsal. She acts it out in detail. At first it was supremely cute because she wanted to marry me, but recently, a preschool compatriot has overtaken my place as groom-to-be. She says it is because he's "silly and handsome..."

Again, duh, this is a social construct. If this little girl hadn't been conditioned from day dot to believe that the pinnacle of her life, as a girl, is going to be one day where she gets to wear some white puffball, she wouldn't have even thought of doing a wedding rehearsal or ruining the tablecloths. Again, you spectacularly.

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9. No one ever told me how irrationally crushed I would be the first time my little girl wanted to marry the silly, handsome boy from preschool instead of me.

Again with that weird incestuous shit. This guy needs a shrink as well as anger management.

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10. No one ever told me how much I would genuinely enjoy manicures, tea parties, midday wardrobe explorations, impromptu waltzes, pastel tackle boxes or Fancy Nancy.

Repeat after me: Gendered toys are a social construct. Gendered toys are a social construct. If your kid grows up with a wide array of toys, with no judgement or gender attachment, she or he will probably play with all of them and then as he or she gets older gravitate to what she or he enjoys. That may or may not be what society deems "girl stuff" or "boy stuff". And what the fuck is Fancy Nancy? Sounds like a My First Stripper set.

OK so this one was actually number 4, but I saved it to last, because, given the above, I really felt that the whole mess needed to be read before revealing this.

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4. No one ever told me that having a daughter would automatically turn me into a feminist.

NONONONONONONONONONONOFUCKINGNO

You are NOT a feminist. You are so far from being a feminist it's laughable. You have just trotted out every single bullshit stereotype about girls and women and being a father of a girl in one short piece of trite, shitty writing. Maybe you are a loving father, and you genuinely love your daughter, which is fine, I'm not about to question that, but feminist you are not. Go and actually read about feminism before you call yourself one. Just because you changed a few shitty nappies and you are comfortable typing the word "vagina" it doesn't make you a feminist, duh.

Here endeth the lesson.

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I can remember walking white-knuckled through a crowded farmer's market with baby girl in the stroller, unable to enjoy myself for the visions of violence I was prepared to mete out upon any member of the throng who so much as cut in line.

:crz

This is not even close to normal or appropriate. If his car had broken down in a bad neighborhood and he had to walk and get help, this kind of hyper-vigilance would be understandable, but it's a farmer's market, Dude. Chill out!

This makes me even more wary of crowds. It makes me wonder how may people are wandering around who are that close to becoming unhinged.

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I once saw her have a complete breakdown in a cafeteria line as she watched the last carvings of "her" prime rib sandwich get distributed to the guest in front of her.

Wifey sounds as if she's a few cans short of a six-pack herself.

Way to go, Losers, go ahead and breed and pass your mental problems on to your kid.

And the three year old "flirting" is just sickening, Attention-Whoring behavior, a la Gluten Free Moo. And I have a feeling his kid probably did the "hi, hi!" thing to the 19 year old, who was nice enough to come over, but seriously? He needs to be teaching his kid to behave properly in public and that includes not bothering random strangers. Not everyone has to luuuuve your kid.

That shit's all stolen from Louis CK. He pioneered the creepy duh of daughters bit, telling the "tiny vagina" shit in twat story as a bit, along with worse stuff specifically directed toward one daughter. But he is a Loving Daddd, he like walks them to school and stuff. And rakes in money off this, so his daughters can not be damaged by the nasty things he says about them and his disgusted/confounded (but loving- aww) attitude toward them.

I hold that piece of crap CK responsible for duhs like this thinking it's ok to be a creeper duh and to publicly shame their own children. I see it as these guys saying, see I take care 'o my kids, so I can do/say/think what I want about them publicly and otherwise.

Note to self: avoid Louis CK like the plague!

Parunt bloggers are seriously touched in the head, and I say this as one with mental issues of my own. I suppose I could blog about my particular griefs in disturbing detail, but it's probably better not to. Good Lord, don't parunts have any sense of boundaries anymore? And do other BNP's really enjoy reading that stuff, or is it just mental masturbation for the bloggers? Too many questions, no good answers.

It takes a child to raze a village.

I'm sorry, but this dude is NOT a feminist. You can't sit there and reinforce everything that makes having a vag miserable and call yourself a liberator. Hell, how can someone be a feminist and NOT understand what the problem even IS? This guy wouldn't understand the basic constraints of the gender binary if you stuffed it up his ass!

From 'Number 2' :BS

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I never could understand the seemingly crushing disappointment that my wife experiences when plans fail. Even the most mundane engagements, extemporaneously altered, can greatly affect her mood. I once saw her have a complete breakdown in a cafeteria line as she watched the last carvings of "her" prime rib sandwich get distributed to the guest in front of her.

I'm reminded of some of my past work, which was pretty stressful, I am in more of a 'biz end' job now, it's also stressful, but not as bad ~

Anyway, I thought of various instances from when I worked as an Engineer ~

Shit hits the fan turbine, often.

You had better be able to keep a grip on your nerves. Very high stress work.

All the rest of you Tech Peeps right here - HOLLA!

Do we have nerves of steel, or what?

Them:
Putz Idiot / 'Comic': Honey, how was your day?

Cow: I has a BEEG SADDEE BECAUSE MY SAMMY NO GOODEE!!!!

Putz: Awwwwww, I understand. I think (sorta, because I lack common sense,) I will also paint ALL WOMEN with this brush too! Oh and also I wanna shill for a few bucks from The Establishment. No, I don't consider it Selling Out, that happened a long time ago, anyway, when my kid shit and puked on me simultaneously, which is a funny story actually ~

Us / Tech Folk (and anyone else in high stress work):

SO: Hi Honey! How was your day?
You: Nothing blew up. I need a drink.

That was disturbing from start to finish. Og plainly thinks he is to be applauded for his violent fanatsies and impulses towards harmless people at a framer's market, but AFAIC he only proved what the CF have been saying for years : That protective parents , especially "Mama Bears", reveal more narcissitic self love than love in their over the top actions "in defense of their young"-IOW, of the living possessions that they regard as extensions of themselves, not as separate human beings. Truly a gross little effusion, and you know he and his circle think it's "heart warming" (yeah, like acid reflux.)

Og got serious butthurt when I commented on his FB page. Everyone on there was humping him, so I guess he didn't like being told he wasn't a feminist in any way, shape or form!

I really don't think BNPs do enjoy this shit either. Because BNPs don't use their children to self-publicise.

Most of the comments on his pages were praise for what he wrote

Methinks he may have removed the posts critical of his "feminism".

"SO: Hi Honey! How was your day?
You: Nothing blew up. I need a drink." larious

Sounds like wifey was always coddled by her daddy so now she expects hubby to continue the role. I hope the sex is worth caring for a grown woman with the brain of a toddler. (Come to think of it, that's the ideal for a lot of Og men.)

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"[GFG's pregnancy is] kind of like at the stables where that one dumb, ugly-ass mare broke out of her corral one day and got herself screwed by the equally fugly colt that was due to be gelded the same afternoon."- Shiny