It was a morning like any other on Facebook: Friends dropping one-liners about their moods, ice cream preferences, quiz results, the June Gloom, etc. One “friend”, an unmarried, childless, single “friend” who requested I be her “friend” months ago, wrote that she never follows those who identify themselves as parents on Twitter because the parents say unforgivable, disgusting, asinine things like, “My kid’s puke is cute.”
Comments on this comment by my “friend” followed swiftly. One young man wrote:
“And don’t even get me started about people who post profile pictures of their pets or their kids!”
And a young woman who confessed to being a twit who doesn’t Twitter, wrote:
“I don’t understand that at all!”
That’s when I jumped in with what I naively considered a Laughingly-Commenting type comment, stating oh those silly parents do and say strange things due to lack of sleep and trying to keep toddlers alive, ha ha, and I Laughingly Commented that because I’m a parent I do my best to understand and forgive other parents for the crazy things we do, especially after the annoying things I’ve done as a parent, like proudly displaying all of the pictures of my kid in my wallet to total strangers, although (I wrote) I would never Twitter about my kid’s puke. Still (I inferred), I understand parents who do Twitter about puke or poop. Puke and poop are huge parts of our lives, us parents of the teeny-tiny. The paradox being that until you’re a parent you can’t truly know the hell, shock and awe you can be put through. As. A. Parent. Ha ha. Tra la. Hoo. Hee. Ha.
When I should have simply ignored or “unfriended” my “friend” right then and there, or, as a fellow mommy bud of mine (a canny, witty, wildly creative, fantastic mommy I admire) advised me, “Just kick her off the bus.”
My Facebook “friend” commented swiftly on my comment. She wrote (basically), that the “Unless you’re a parent you can’t know” line is used way too often to excuse completely unacceptable behavior from kids and the parents who can’t control them, behavior that she, my “friend”, believes she simply should not have to “put up” with (I assume she means in public). Then my “friend” coolly, condescendingly thanked me for not “baby-tweeting.”
Does my “friend” hang out in playgrounds? Does she live in a pre-school? Please. She’s a single woman constantly Tweeting and FB’ing about where her next cocktail is coming from. She spends A LOT of time researching upscale happy hours (per FB posts). Is she really coming into contact with that many harried parents sucking down martinis in between disciplining their toddlers from the doorways of swanky bars? Jayden–give that woman back her iphone! Bartender, three olives this time and make it dirty–Fitzroy Blane The F****** Third! Get the hell away from that stiletto!
ASS****!!! I muttered irately after reading my “friend’s” comment. A loud buzzing filled my ears. I saw red. I was beyond irate. I was—Uber Irate. I “unfriended” my “friend” and blocked her from contacting me.
I ranted and raged at the computer screen with a passion that excluded Zen kindness or patience or understanding or forgiveness—but then I had to paint the bathroom, clean out filthy cupboards, wash the cat poop off the brand new comforter and feed my toddler and I forgot about the nasty start to my day. I’m still annoyed (obviously) by my “friend’s” comments, but the kicking her off my bus part of my day really hit home. Life is short, etc., and my boy is growing so fast. I don’t have time to be mad at someone who may become a mother some day herself and have the parenting light bulb flash on and realize that thinking your kid’s puke is cute is far, far better than the alternative and makes for a healthier mind and provides a crumb of staid sanity in the many, many extremely long days of being a mother, or father, or caregiver in charge of the following: Raising the future.
Well, parents, there’s plenty of seating in my bus—whether you think your kid’s puke, poop or snot is cute, or whether you’re just plain overwhelmed by parenting. Come in, sit (don’t you love my sky-blue paisley bus cushions!), breathe and sip a libation of your choice. Understand. Forgive. Breathe.
PS. Thank you B! Your bus is grand, grand.
Now THAT’S cute!