Things people do that I take as personal offenses (even though they're not)

You ever catch yourself getting deeply offended over something that really, at its core, has nothing to do with you whatsoever?

Don't lie; we've all been there. 

Here are a few things that will make me feel offended, betrayed, and absolutely shocked at the depravity of human society for no reason at all:


When someone announces a pregnancy that I did not expect
(because they said they were done having kids, or that they weren't going to have any period, or that it would be a few years before they started trying, etc)

There's no greater feeling of betrayal than to fire up the ol' Facebook machine and see that someone who had previously told me they had no plans to have children "until I'm AT LEAST 30" is announcing that they are pregnant ... but they're only 27.

Or seeing that someone who insisted one night over glasses of wine that "trust me, two is PLENTY for us!" is now pregnant with a third. 

I see these people announcing their happy news, and all I can think is, "YOU LIED RIGHT TO MY FACE."

LYING BITCH.

Now, of course, this is completely ridiculous. First off, people are allowed to change their minds. Especially about important matters ... and 'how many kids should we have' is one of the most important decisions anyone makes in their entire lives. Imagine if you were eternally stuck with the decision you made at age 24, six beers deep after spending the weekend with your bratty nieces and nephews. Or the decision you made after watching too many episodes of "A Baby Story" three days after getting dumped. My god, everyone on earth would have either zero kids or ten of them.

Second of all, it's not my business how many children other couples want to have, and when they want to have them. Like, I can hardly think of a topic that is less my business than that. I think I'm owed a rundown of your bowel movements more than I'm owed a copy of your reproductive plans.

Third of all, accidents happen. Maybe that friend really DIDN'T plan to have kids until she was 30, but she took some antibiotics that made her birth control stop working and now she's pregnant at 26 unexpectedly. And maybe she doesn't really want to announce that to everyone on Facebook. And maybe that other woman found out she was pregnant a week after her husband got his vasectomy. They really did think they were done, but then ... life found a way.

All of these excellent reasons why I shouldn't feel betrayed have absolutely no bearing on whether or not I actually feel betrayed, though. If you're pregnant and I didn't have any inkling that it was coming, then you got some apologizing to do, buddy. Because this shit will not fly.


When people stink up the bathroom at work

When I walk into the bathroom at work and it smells like poop, I get angry. I get angry like I would if someone had intentionally farted directly in my face and then ran away laughing.

HOW RUDE. HOW DARE YOU. I DO NOT WANT TO SMELL THIS.

This is also completely ridiculous. Most people don't plan on stinking up the bathroom. It's not like they sit in their car on the way to work giggling about how awesome it's going to be to make all their coworkers breathe in their poop stench.

YOU MONSTER.

It's just something that happens sometimes, when your body doesn't really cooperate with what you intend. I prefer to poop at home, and I think most people feel the same way ... but there are times when that just doesn't work out.

It's absurd to get offended by that.

But I do anyway. Because I'm breathing someone else's poop and I hate it and that person should be fired immediately, if not sooner. They're creating a hostile work environment. It's unacceptable.

... unless the person who stunk up the bathroom was me. The rules are always different for me. I'm special.


When someone doesn't give the "thank you" wave in ambiguous situations

I think everyone can agree that when someone does you a favor on the road, if you don't give them the "thank you" wave, you're a giant dick.

But there are situations where it's a bit more ambiguous.

For example, let's say someone puts on their blinker to merge into your lane, so you hang back a bit to make sure they have enough space. In your mind, you've done them a favor and they should wave. But in their mind, maybe you didn't do anything at all and there just happened to be enough room in your lane for their car. So why would they give you a wave if you haven't done anything?

And then there are the bad drivers. The people who are so terrible at driving that to divert their attention from it, for even one second to wave at you, would cause them to drive off a cliff and smash into a school for musically gifted children. Do you really want these people giving 'the wave'?

None of these confounding variables mean anything to me, however. If I've done someone a favor on the road, I expect a wave. DO YOU HEAR ME? WAVE, GODDAMMIT!!!

That's right, you bitch.

Of course, as always, these rules don't apply to me. When I take my spot at the end of the zipper merge on my street, I ain't waving at nobody. It's a f***ing merge, you HAVE to let me in. It's not a favor; it's your job. I don't wave at you for doing your job. And when someone stops to let me out of Audrey's daycare parking lot, which requires rapidly checking that the other direction is clear before gunning it into a left turn across several lanes of traffic, I'm not waving. I'm too busy trying not to kill my family.

Those people should just know that I thank them. Internally. Much like how I should assume the same for the other drivers on the road who don't wave at me in similar situations.

Nope. Those people are such assholes.


In conclusion, don't be an asshole and I won't get offended. All you have to do is make sure you're 100% totally honest about your reproductive plans with everyone you meet, make sure you ONLY have bowel movements between the hours of 6PM and 8AM, and of course give me the "thank you" wave any time I do anything nice for you, even if you weren't aware of it.

IS THAT SO MUCH TO ASK? JESUS.

Gross/inconvenient things I have accidentally taught my daughter to do

A major part of being a parent is regretting stupid things that you did that you can't un-teach your kid. It's unavoidable. No matter how carefully you think everything through, someday you're going to wind up doing something in front of your kid that they're going to think is the greatest idea ever, and they're going to copy it and copy it and copy it as you wilt like a flower that hasn't been watered in a week.

Here are a few such things that I've inadvertently taught Audrey to do:


Hands wet? No problem; wipe them on Mommy's clothing

I actually taught her this one on purpose. Sort of. I tried to teach her one thing, but it completely backfired on me.

The lesson I was attempting to impart is that if you get some water on your hands, you can just wipe your hands on your pants and then your hands will be dry. I did this because she tended to freak out whenever her hands got wet, and would shriek and panic until they were dried with a towel or something. I wanted her to have a means of coping with the situation on her own so that she wouldn't need to freak out.

So I showed her how I wipe my wet hands on my own pants, and then they aren't wet anymore. And she was like "oh, got it."

But she misunderstood.

Now she thinks that my clothing is a towel. Mine and mine alone.

It doesn't matter what the liquid in question is -- be it milk, juice, water, probably even urine -- if it's on your hands and you don't want it there anymore, go find your mother and wipe your hands all over her. It's cool; she said it was okay. Bonus points for liquids that will leave a stain.

Audrey ... I said WATER. On YOUR OWN PANTS. Not "raspberry juice on my nice scarf."

Hrrmmph.


Fingers dirty? No problem; shove them in Mommy's mouth until they are clean

This method was borne of desperation. When a toddler manages to get some sticky food substance all over their hands at an unexpected time, you have two choices: you can either run for a napkin or towel and find that the mess has been spread everywhere by the time you get back, or ... you can use your mouth to clean the chocolate, peanut butter, or jam off little one's fingers.

In one such desperate moment, I foolishly opted for the Mommy's Mouth approach.

Now Audrey believes that that is the standard method for getting any sticky food mess off her hands.

Just this morning, we were sharing an English muffin with peanut butter, and she got peanut butter on her finger. Without asking or even hesitating for an instant, she turned around and shoved her finger into my mouth like it was a free car wash built just for her.

I tried to show her that she can suck these things off of her OWN fingers if she wants to, but evidently that was not acceptable. I guess I just do a better job.

A second later, she also got peanut butter on her binkie ... and guess where that ended up too.

In the dishwasher on Mommy's face, that's where.

Hrrmph.


Finished eating or drinking something? No problem; throw it in the garbage

Audrey still struggles to differentiate between things like an empty applesauce pouch, which is trash, and an empty juice cup, which is reusable.

So, she has decided to make things easy on herself by just assuming that everything is garbage, all the time.

And she's so independent about it, too. She'll just take her plastic Elmo bowl of Cheerios into the kitchen without a word and drop the whole thing into the trash. She threw away a nice glass dish with matching lid; she threw away a plate that we were using to share some waffle; she has thrown away her juice cups more times than I can count. We need to install a little bell on the cabinet where the trash can is so we stand a better chance of catching her when she does this.

I think we've managed to notice every time she throws away something she's not supposed to, so we can dig it out and wash it off ... but then again, there are about four or five binkies that I haven't seen in quite a while. They could be anywhere.

But they're probably in a landfill somewhere.

Hrrmph.


Done with your salsa snack? Put the chip away -- back in the bag!

Jesse often eats tortilla chips with salsa as a snack, and Audrey likes to join him in this snack. Kid loves salsa.

Look at her go! And it's medium salsa, too! Does YOUR kid eat medium salsa?

Oh, they do? They eat hot salsa? Well ... you shouldn't be giving your kid hot salsa anyway. It's bad for them and it'll give them diarrhea.

See what I did there? You were better than me, so I turned it right around on you and criticized your parenting. I'm a natural at this shit.

But she doesn't really get that you're supposed to eat the chip, too. She just thinks that the chip is some kind of weird spoon you use to scoop salsa into your mouth (which, to be fair, I kind of agree with).

So she will use the same chip to eat all the salsa she wants, dipping it over and over again and sucking all the salsa off it. And then, when she's finished, she drops her disgusting half-dissolved mouth chip right back into the bag.

Nasty.

I guess it's better than her usual method of disposal of snacks she doesn't want anymore, which is DIRECTLY INTO MY MOUTH. And then of course there's her new method of announcing that she is finished eating her dinner, which is to start picking up pieces of food and squishing them in her fist as hard as she can.

You haven't lived until you've seen a piece of tofu oozing between tiny fingers like extra liquidy Play-doh.

Hrrmph.



It's cool, though. In a couple months, I'll have a whole new kid to teach. A blank canvas.

And this time, I'm gonna do everything right. You just wait!

Audrey vs. my earplugs

Ever since Audrey was born, I have worn foam earplugs to sleep every night so that I wouldn't wake up at every little infant peep, fart, and sleep-sigh. Now that it's almost two years later, I absolutely cannot sleep without my earplugs.

So I keep a collection of them on my nightstand, in case one falls out (or I pull it out) in my sleep and I can't find it right away in the bed -- I can just grab another one from the nightstand and go back to my awesome dream where I'm drowning an aggressive lion with my bare hands in the Olympic-sized swimming pool of my mansion.

But when there's a toddler involved, keeping 4-5 foam earplugs sitting out on one's nightstand is a very high-risk behavior. Not because she might choke on them; nay, she never puts them anywhere near her mouth.

Because she hides them. Every single day.

Here are a few of her favorite earplug-related activities:


Earplugs in Daddy's boots

Jesse wears combat boots to work every day, and he keeps them in our bedroom. Audrey just loves to take the fistful of earplugs off my nightstand and drop them one by one into one or both of his boots.

So, people in Australia always have to turn over their boots and shake them out in search of spiders and scorpions ...

I wanted to find a picture or GIF of someone removing a large insect from their boot, but instead I found this and was like "WTF" so now I'm sharing it with you because WTF.

Jesse has to turn over his boots and shake them out every day in search of earplugs.

And yes, he has forgotten to do this and spent all day walking around with a few earplugs smashed under his foot in the boot. No, I did not continue to use them afterwards.


Earplugs stuffed into the thermometer cover

This was a daily occurrence until I finally took the thermometer cover away and hid it somewhere out of reach. The game is to take the earplugs and stuff them down into the plastic thermometer cover. You win when you have so many earplugs stuffed in there that you could not possibly stuff any more even if there were money involved.

The problem is, they're nigh on impossible to get out of there. You see, the way foam earplugs work is that you squish them down, then put them in your ear canal, and then wait for them to puff back up with air and make a good seal. So when you do the same with a plastic thermometer cover, they puff back up with air and completely seal themselves in. I can't grab them to pull them out; I can't shake them out; I can't push them out with a tool. The only way to get them out at all is to use a pen or something to squish them again until they're small, and then shake the tube violently/smash it against things with great force and get the earplugs to fall out before they have a chance to puff back up and seal themselves in.

Every single day I had to do this. Every day.

And then the next day she'd just shove them all right back in there again.

Keep going, Audrey. I bet you can get at least ten, twelve more in there.

This is why people choose not to have children.


Earplugs in the bath

This was a new one. I was filling the tub for Audrey's bath, and she was leaning over to put her hands under the faucet as usual ... but then I noticed that she had all my earplugs in her hands, and was 'washing' them under the water. When I tried to take them away, she threw them into the bubble bath, and screamed any time I tried to remove them from the bath later on. So she took a bath with my earplugs.

I threw those ones away too. They were still wet the next day and if we're being honest, the odds that she peed in that bathtub are like 98%. I don't need to put that in my ears.


Earplugs in the garbage

It's always the brand new ones that I've only used for a day or so that she decides need to be thrown away, too. You think these things grow on trees, Audrey?

Well, they come in giant packages that are very inexpensive, so they basically DO grow on trees, but that's not the point and you know it.

Earplugs in her crib

For some reason, running down the hallway and throwing random items into her crib is great entertainment. Especially because she can't get them back out again without help! LOL WHAT FUN!!!

Luckily, the earplugs glow faintly in the dark, so if I don't notice that she's done this before putting her to bed at night, I can at least see the subtle orange glow of the six earplugs she's hoarded in there next to Elmo and her blankie. Sigh.


Earplugs in the suitcase

Just so we're clear, Audrey has no idea what the earplugs actually are or what they're actually for. She has never seen me put them in my ears. To her, they're just weird little orange foam things that are always next to the bed for some reason.

So imagine my surprise when I arrived on vacation and found five earplugs scattered through our suitcase. I'm just glad someone had the foresight to pack them, because lord knows I wasn't going to remember.


Earplugs in the toilet

I saluted as I flushed. They had served me bravely.



Some people have cats who are obsessed with stealing hair ties. Not me. I have a toddler obsessed with stealing earplugs.

When we move out, I shudder to think how many of them we're going to find stuffed behind pieces of furniture, underneath things, jammed into things, and hidden deep inside things we rarely use. Hundreds of them. Whole packages of earplugs, vanished into the darkest recesses of our home.

Audrey, LEAVE MY EARPLUGS ALONE. I NEED THEM SO YOUR FARTS DON'T WAKE ME UP.