It's soooo hard to behave myself, sometimes...
So Bev posted this to facebook in the last thirty-six hours:
It has taken all of the will I possess to keep from commenting on it, because the only thing I can hear in my head is "It's so cute that you call what you do 'parenting'!"
Followed immediately by the much less sarcastic and far more incisive "Bitch, PLEASE. I have SEEN YOU in situations where you had the perfect opportunity to BE A GODDAMN PARENT AND YOU DID SWEET MOLLY SOD-ALL. When you have BEEN a GODDAMN PARENT, THEN YOU CAN POST SILLY SHIT ABOUT IT ONLINE."
Situation #1: We're all at the table, having dinner. Smallest Girl needs an adult to butter her bread, cut up her salad, etc etc et parental cetera. Bev? None of it. She doesn't even SUGGEST that Smallest Girl ASK SOMEONE ON HER SIDE OF THE TABLE FOR HELP.
Situation #2: We, that is, all of us minus my brother, went over to a local mattress retailer to find mattresses for Bev and the girls. Naturally, when the girls discover they're allowed to get onto the display beds, they go for it with gusto--and gradually move from merely climbing onto the beds and lying still to bouncing on them and clambering from bed to bed. Nothing super-horrible; they weren't shrieking and treating the place like their own private trampoline world, but they were approaching the limit of what was acceptable.
BEV SIMPLY WATCHED. Mom and I were the people who told the girls to settle down, get down, don't do that, it's not a playground. It STILL makes me want to fucking scream, even now.
As far as I can tell, Bev's only interested in the "fun" part of being a parent -- the parties and buying stuff and having a good time kind of things. She does manage to set aside her apathy toward actual parenting long enough to feed them, occasionally, but...
My mom has about another week to pull together whatever "rules" she's been working on and call a meeting before I utterly decompensate. And I will use profanity, and I will use my I AM TIRED OF THIS SHIT Loud Voice, and I will tell every goddamn last fucking ONE of them to their faces that if no one else is going to fucking step up to the plate and be a fucking parent, if they are so uninvested in the harmony of the fucking household, then they have TWO CHOICES: they can let me do it my way and STFU, or I can call CPS and the girls can go into Fosterworld Hell.
And they better choose fast, because I have a dictatorial list that I can get started on right fucking NOW.
It has taken all of the will I possess to keep from commenting on it, because the only thing I can hear in my head is "It's so cute that you call what you do 'parenting'!"
Followed immediately by the much less sarcastic and far more incisive "Bitch, PLEASE. I have SEEN YOU in situations where you had the perfect opportunity to BE A GODDAMN PARENT AND YOU DID SWEET MOLLY SOD-ALL. When you have BEEN a GODDAMN PARENT, THEN YOU CAN POST SILLY SHIT ABOUT IT ONLINE."
Situation #1: We're all at the table, having dinner. Smallest Girl needs an adult to butter her bread, cut up her salad, etc etc et parental cetera. Bev? None of it. She doesn't even SUGGEST that Smallest Girl ASK SOMEONE ON HER SIDE OF THE TABLE FOR HELP.
Situation #2: We, that is, all of us minus my brother, went over to a local mattress retailer to find mattresses for Bev and the girls. Naturally, when the girls discover they're allowed to get onto the display beds, they go for it with gusto--and gradually move from merely climbing onto the beds and lying still to bouncing on them and clambering from bed to bed. Nothing super-horrible; they weren't shrieking and treating the place like their own private trampoline world, but they were approaching the limit of what was acceptable.
BEV SIMPLY WATCHED. Mom and I were the people who told the girls to settle down, get down, don't do that, it's not a playground. It STILL makes me want to fucking scream, even now.
As far as I can tell, Bev's only interested in the "fun" part of being a parent -- the parties and buying stuff and having a good time kind of things. She does manage to set aside her apathy toward actual parenting long enough to feed them, occasionally, but...
My mom has about another week to pull together whatever "rules" she's been working on and call a meeting before I utterly decompensate. And I will use profanity, and I will use my I AM TIRED OF THIS SHIT Loud Voice, and I will tell every goddamn last fucking ONE of them to their faces that if no one else is going to fucking step up to the plate and be a fucking parent, if they are so uninvested in the harmony of the fucking household, then they have TWO CHOICES: they can let me do it my way and STFU, or I can call CPS and the girls can go into Fosterworld Hell.
And they better choose fast, because I have a dictatorial list that I can get started on right fucking NOW.