Pokemon is destroying my confidence as a parent

I'm fucking cool; I'm a cool parent, I swear to god. First of all, I say things like "I'm fucking cool," which, right there solidifies my status as "cool parent." I'm extremely tech savvy, I'm up on the latest tech trends, I can figure out how to make things work without the help of my kids: I'M COOL, GODDAMMIT.

I've always been determined not to be one of those "lame" parents who doesn't understand the little neurotypical games that their neurotypical little boy plays with his neurotypical little friends. I play video games with him, even if I suck at it. I listen while he explains, in excruciating detail, how he beat Koopa by throwing that turtle just at the right time. I get it. I may not care, but at least I understand; I can speak his language. I'm. Fucking. Cool.

Enter Pokemon.

I don't know what it is about those stupid things that just makes my brain completely shut down. I didn't even understand what they were for a long time; I had to ask somebody on Twitter (everybody say thank you to GoodNghtIrene), and even now it doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me. They're pocket monsters, they have unique skills, they fight each other. When they talk, they only use words that are variations of their own names, for some reason. (I find that very annoying).

You collect them. You play a card game. You watch the TV show. You talk about them incessantly. These are all relatively simple things, right? I'm fucking smart; I should be able to understand this, but NO! I just don't get it.

Over the weekend Child 2 tried to teach me how to play, and I sat there at the kitchen table, trying very very hard to understand, but it was like he was speaking a different language. Hubs tried to help, too, but it just wasn't sinking in.

Eventually I just threw up my hands and said "NO! I'M NOT DOING THIS! I DON'T UNDERSTAND THIS I CAN'T DO THIS!" while Child 2 is still insisting, "It's easy. I'll teach you." NO NO NO NO NO NO!!!!!

And then earlier today I'm in Target, and my mission is to purchase some new cards that got ruined yesterday during a game (OMG don't ask), and I'm staring at this display and... what? What am I supposed....? I don't underst-..... So, I call hubs (because Child 2 doesn't have a phone and I can't call him) and say "What am I getting?" and he starts rattling off my various options and I'm looking at this display and I am unable to make the connection between what I'm seeing and what he's saying. Dragon Exalted? I don't see any dragons. Which one is exalted? Where does it even say that? Which one of these packages should I be looking at? OH MY GOD I don't know what I'm doing.

What is that.... I don't even....

I'm not a cool mom, after all. I'm a lame mom.

Goddammit, I'm a fucking lame mom.

I HATE YOU, POKEMON!!

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"It made me realize I had failed as a parent"

Sunday night. I'm fast asleep. I have the bed to myself when Child 2 comes in and lies down with me.

He coughs. And twitches a little.

Silence.

He coughs again. And whines softly.

Oh, god. I know what this is. I KNOW WHAT THIS IS! He's going to fucking PUKE! This is what he does when he pukes, he coughs and whines like that!

Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe he just has something stuck in his throat. Oh, please let me be wrong. I have to go to work in 6 hours, I can't be up all night with a barfy boy.

Silence.

Cough.

Whine.

Cough.

Louder whine.

Cough. Gag.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA"

Wretch.

"Child 2, quick! Get to the bathroom!!"

He gets up and starts heading toward the bathroom. And he starts yelling.

"FUCK! SHIT!! FUCK!!! SHIT!!!"

Oh. Oh, good god.

He makes it to the bathroom and I'm now standing in the middle of the pitch black bedroom. From there I can hear the telltale sounds of stomach contents being emptied. Into the sink. Well, at least it's not the floor. Or my bed.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA" he howls from the bathroom. "SHIT! FUCK! SHIT!" He's a yeller, this one. Can't really blame him. Throwing up sucks. But... really with the cursing? I say nothing, I figure it makes him feel better. After all, they did a Mythbusters about that; about how screaming obscenities makes painful things less painful, it's probably helping.

I see the shadow of hubs coming into the room so I grab my pillows and head to Child 2's bed. Hubs is on vacation now, he can deal with this tonight. Happy Father's Day, though! YAY!

I settle into Child 2's bed (which happens to be the most comfortable bed in the house because it has this awesome Tempur-Pedic mattress topper) and in comes Child 1, who squishes in next to me.

It's going to be a long night, isn't it?

The rest of the night drags on with me drifting in and out of consciousness, and every hour or so the house is filled with the sound of "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA! FUCK! SHIT! SHIT! FUCK!!!"

Does he really have to scream like that every time? I mean... I know it sucks to be sick like this, but come ON, man! The windows are open! THE WHOLE NEIGHBORHOOD CAN HEAR YOU! And did I mention that my mother-in-law is in town and sleeping downstairs?

At some point the screaming and the cursing stopped, which I think was around the same time that my alarm went off and I had to get up for work.

Hubs and I were talking about it when I got home from work (and after I had taken a nice long nap). We agreed that there's nothing quite like listening to your 6 year old child curse and barf like a drunken sailor. "It made me realize I had failed as a parent," he said.

I guess we'll have to work on that.

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Out of the mouths of babes? I think?

Child 2 has his own computer, so does Child 1. Hubs brings home laptops from his office that have been discarded or abandoned so we're pretty much swimming in computers over here. (I tell you this because I feel the need to justify why it is that our kids both have their own computers. Hubs gets them for free, it's not like we're rich or anything. We also have a rather large Broken Laptop Graveyard in my office.)

Child 2 has been spending a lot of time on his computer this past week (Vacation, bitches!!!!!), mostly watching YouTube videos of random people playing Mario related video games. Did you know that people record themselves playing Mario related video games and then upload them to YouTube? They call them "walkthroughs." They're just kids, narrating their journeys through these Mario games, and are rather benign. I can't make it through an entire video, though, because it's really fucking boring, but I have watched them (because I'm a "good" mom) and both kids really enjoy watching them.

The problem with YouTube, however, is that the parental controls are pretty sucky, so despite my best efforts, the kids will click on other things and often find themselves on videos that are, well....let's just say SO NOT APPROPRIATE for kids this age. (They don't end up on porn or anything, but they do seem to find the ones with the most colorful language.)

So, anyhoozle.... it's Christmas.....  and I'm in the kitchen making rugelach....

.... and Child 2 brings his laptop into the room with me, because he likes being near me (awwwwww) so that he can watch his videos while I cook, and he had stumbled upon one of those videos that I mentioned earlier. It was some dude narrating these stick figures who were having a conversation, and the subject matter of the conversation the stick figures were having was so not appropriate for kids his age.

So, I get pissed (even though it's pretty much my own fault) and I close up his computer and put it in a place that he can't reach. "Go do something else," I order, which he does. Hours later, he comes and finds me at my own computer, and he's crying. He really wants his computer back, and he promises that he will only watch Mario videos and stay away from all the other kinds of videos.

With a face full of tears, he grabs onto my arm and hugs it and says.... "Mama, I'm sorry about the Filipino hookers. Can I please have my computer back?"

Until next time.....

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I think I changed my mind

So, you remember last week how I talked about how the Empress wrote a post and changed my entire perspective about life? And as you read the words, fat assed cherubs started flying around your head? And as the cherubs played their whatever fucking thing it is that cherubs play, unicorns and rainbows appeared out of nowhere and swirled around you? And you guys were all "oh my god, what a great attitude you have, Jill! I WISH I COULD BE JUST LIKE YOU FOREVER AND EVER BECAUSE YOU'RE THE BEST MOM EVER."

Remember that?

Yeah, fuck that. I have a completely different perspective on my clingy kid after the weekend I've just had. Sorry, Empress; I guess my brain can't process that kind of good feeling for more than a few days or so, especially not with all these factors working against me.  I've spent the weekend practically with Child 2 glued to my side. I'm sure there were actually many hours in which he was somewhere else, but it sure fucking felt like he was there 24/7.

It all started on Friday afternoon when I'm hanging around on the K yard with him and his buddies and he would cry and sit in my lap at the drop of a hat. Everything was my fault, though. I made him fall; I made the ball hit him in the head, etc. I was only there with him for about 45 minutes but by the time it was over my patience was very very thin. Luckily it was Friday, though. And Fridays are drinkin' days in my house.

Saturday was Birthday Party #1. It was at the place where his buddy takes karate (and his buddy's mom is my friend and I love hanging out with her, so that was helpful. She'll probably read this, too. Hi H's Mom!!!!!!!). At one point there was an injustice (somebody bumped him? I don't know. Does it matter?) and the tears started flowing. I was standing across the room, watching, and I knew that if I were to get myself involved it would just be another cascade of blame, so I watched as the Karate chick... (actually I think they're called "Masters" or something, except it's a woman. Do women still get called "Masters" ? I guess "Mistress" is too S&M or something, although this woman is so fucking kick ass awesome she's definitely earned the title of "Master." Okay, Master it is!) ... so, I stayed there by the food table and conspicuously stared at the cheese and salami platter and watched as the Karate Master chick completely defused his tantrumming simply by not being me. 

I'm sorry but that fucking pisses me off. Okay, I know. I KNOW. The fact that he can fucking "let it all go" with me is an indication that I've done a good job or whatever and he feels safe with me and blah blah blah but fuck that! That's just fucking insulting. I'm sick of being the source of all of his problems.

Sunday was another birthday party and at this point my patience was completely gone, which I think he could sense because it was just another long line of tantrums. He snagged his fingers on the door coming in and it was my fault because I was trying to break his hand. He rubbed his arm up against something and it was my fault because I didn't make him wear a long sleeved shirt and was trying to make his arm burn.

And et cetera.

At one point I was sitting there trying to get him to put his shoes on so that he could go and have some fucking cake and I thought "hey remember how I blogged just a week ago about how my entire perspective on this has changed? One day this will end? And one day I will miss this? Remember that? One day I will miss this. One day I will miss this. One day I will miss this." It was like a mantra.

Didn't work. I have never before in my life wanted to fucking throttle a person more than I did right then. I kept my cool, though. Getting pissed at him only makes it worse. I know from experience.

Oh well; the good attitude was nice while it lasted. Maybe the Empress will write something else?

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