“Hey Reggie!. . . What’s wrong? You don’t look so hot. . .”
A phrase, that to a woman who’s just “given birth” – would seem “foreign” and would more than likely never even be considered once that beautiful baby (or babies) is placed in her arms. It would never occur to her at that moment, that she has just experienced the most physically impossible, painful and “disgusting to look at” feats imaginable. That it would more than likely be in her best interests to seek professional help for even contemplating putting herself through the pain, anguish, and torture of another “Child-Bearing Marathon” anytime again. . . EVER. Of course, I am speaking of mothers that have gone through ‘Natural Childbirth’ sessions . It is my understanding that there are a number of women out there that get on some sort of Morphine Drip, lazily go through the ordeal and squeeze the kid out like it was on a Baby Oil Slip n’ Slide – for them, the pain comes LATER. Because that leads to the other half of the parenting equation: In our case – The Spouse. I’m not really into defining people’s roles in their relationships. In some it could be the significant other, the insignificant other, Life-Partner, Donor “Vile b-3qA”. Whatever the case, it is none of my business and none of yours. Nevertheless, whoever is left after the “Child Bearing” to do the “Child Rearing” is most assuredly left at some point in time saying to themselves, their “spouse”, their therapist, their support group – “Remind Me to NEVER Do THAT Again. . .” But as is so often the case with “People”, we rarely learn from our mistakes. NO, I am not saying that having children is a mistake. I currently “co-possess” 4 of them with my “spouse”. I think they are good for a great many things. Indeed, on more than one occasion they have come in rather handy. (For instance, if I misplace something when I’m at a busy Walmart, like say – one of my ‘other children’ – Well, I’m happy to report that 7 out of 10 times, one of my other kids can find them.) They are terrific! I LOVE my kids. But, the experience of RAISING children seems to be a continuous series of ‘Trial and Error’, with a HEAVY DOSE of “ERROR”. You would think that the older they get, the EASIER it would become. That is a BOLD-FACED LIE. Don’t even begin to tell yourself that. With everything going on in this Hazy-Crazy World of ours, I think we have it 100 times harder than our parents. Well not MY parents. . . But surely YOURS. My parents had ME. I’m SURE that was like HEAVEN. . . About 3 weeks ago, my wife looked at me with that look only a wife can give a husband. (I suppose a janitor could give that look to a farmer, but it wouldn’t be the same – unless the janitor was the wife of the farmer – and they had kids) The look was that of a woman who desperately needed a way to “Entertain” the children. Very often in the hustle and bustle of everyday life. Time can get away from you. Between the shopping, paying the bills, cooking the food, helping with homework – well, you can lose sight that the children haven’t actually been out of the house for around 3 or 4 years and that they appear much taller for some reason. So my wife and I decided that we would take our kids. . . to the Los Angeles Zoo. . .
Now on “paper” this looked. . . like a “disaster”. No, I’m not going to sugar-coat it. Getting my kids to do anything as a cohesive family unit for more than 5 minutes, usually involves a lot of begging, pleading, threatening, bribing, beating and sometimes “foul play”. When I say “foul play” I don’t mean “murder”. No,I’m fairly certain “someone” would have noticed one of them was missing. No we just don’t “play fair” sometimes. Often using various “tricks” to get the kids to “behave”. (i.e. “Hey son, if you get the blow torch away from your sister, I’ll let you “live”.) Also, when I said “beating”, I was referring to my head against a wall. So you can just about start getting your undies picked back out of your cracks. Where was I? Oh yeah, we were headin’ for the Zoo. The van ride to LA was eerily silent. Possibly, because we were riding down in our BRAND NEW ’96 Dodge Conversion Van , paid for ENTIRELY by my tax refund, with NO THOUGHT as to what we could have done with that money when we RAN OUT OF FOOD a week after our “purchase”. (Kind of ties into the “Never doing that again” thing, huh?) But they sat in the comfort of our ‘New Ride’ and plugged themselves into various electronic devices – designed by someone who didn’t believe in ‘human interaction’. So by all accounts, it started off okay. When we GOT to the Zoo, someone failed to remind us that “I” was not the only one enjoying a 3 Day Weekend with my family. In fact, it turns out that a LARGE contingent of Animal-Loving Californians agreed that this would be the perfect day to “Be in MY WAY”. Therefore as dutiful Good Citizens, my wife and I decided NOT to strangle people as they “cut” in line in front of us. We resisted the urge to “punch in the nose” those who decided that THEY were the only ones of any importance within the confines of the World Famous Los Angeles Zoo. (For the record? It ain’t that great. Even if I HAD enjoyed myself) It took our kids nearly 3 and a half seconds upon entering the Zoo, to declare their disdain for the Zoo, the people “in” the Zoo, my wife, ME, the size of the beverages that cost us roughly Ten Dollars per ounce. . . EVERYTHING. Please understand that we have VERY WELL-BEHAVED children. . . in PUBLIC
They have sneaky and underhanded ways of letting us know how displeased they are with our efforts in a very discreet and savvy way. Outwardly, they might look mildly upset. But INSIDE? a “Tumult of Toxicity”. They have already “Let us Have it” and we have been reduced to tears. . . INWARDLY. Outwardly, my wife and I will let just about anyone who wants to know exactly how displeased we are with ANY given situation, “Yes we are displeased and Yes, you may stop gawking at us, while our children tear us apart emotionally”. So, after about 4 hours of never finding a monkey that could throw poop in a way that “WE” could find “just” the right amount of amusing, we decided to “make tracks”. You would think that my kids would be Happy to get out of the house after their 3 to 4 year hibernation. . . YOU, would be an “idiot”. Not MY words . . . “THEIRS”. So we filed the kids back into the “VAN” (which was now, in their minds, the biggest piece of crap they’ve EVER had the displeasure of riding in) My wife stating as she has SO MANY TIMES BEFORE, “Remind Me to NEVER Do THAT Again. . . ” Then we headed BACK to BAKERSFIELD (on a personal note, this drive “back” is ALWAYS a downer for me and my wife – “You mean we have to go BACK? . . There?“) BUT, we are a pretty resilient couple (my wife and I) We have barred the windows at home again. We have reminded them that they need us for “Food and Stuff”. All seems to be getting back to “normal” around here. How are we going to follow up the trip to the Zoo? Well, my Mother and one of my Brothers and his family are going to be here in June. . . We are going to hit “San Diego”. . .
We’ve even been thinking about another kid. . . Well, I’ve been trying to figure out why people like Justin Bieber and my wife has been trying to explain it to me. (He’s a pint-sized annoying person with SUPER-SIZED marketing) So what do Raising Kids and “Farting” have to do with one another? . . . Well, nothing really. . . I just write this stuff. . . In The End it’s Not About the Love You Make, But the Wind You Break?. . . forget it. Guess I shouldn’t have started with a “Fart Joke”. . . “Remind Me to NEVER Do THAT Again. . .”