Thursday, March 14, 2013

The Day the F*cks Were Gone


Pardon my french, but I'm only telling it as it is. 


Back before I had my son, I had many, many f*cks.  So many f*cks I couldn't even count them.  My cup runneth over with f*cks.  If you had asked me to give a f*ck, I could have given you dozens and it wouldn't have left a dent.

And then the onslaught of f*cks began. 

A few of my f*cks went to worrying constantly that something would happen to him while I was pregnant. Ok that's a lie, I gave many f*cks at that time. 

Many f*cks went toward researching vaccinations and birth.  Many more were given to learning about Attachment Parenting, and planning on how I was going to be the most perfect parent ever and how I would, in turn, be given the perfect child.  During this time I gave an abundance of f*cks to things that were really needless and careless ways to give f*cks; other people's parenting choices were a big one.  Looking back, I think I could have prevented all of this if only I had kept my f*cks to myself on that one. 

Anyway, before I knew it, I was bleeding f*cks.  A super ton of f*cks went into breast feeding and co-sleeping.  More went into not giving him sugar and junk food.  Before I knew it, I was giving a f*ck at every twist and turn of my life, as this roller coaster of parenting continued to get faster and faster and faster. 

Then my kid started to leave babyhood and enter toddlerhood.  He started to express himself, and started saying "no" all the time.  He started protesting things like what he wanted to eat (or not eat), what he wanted to wear (or not wear), etc.  Tantrums started to happen.  Screaming started to happen. I was giving a few f*cks here and there for a while, but over time, it seemed like I was able to give fewer and fewer. 

I don't know the exact date or time it happened, but at some point I can only assume something came along and sliced me open and all my f*cks came pouring out of me.  I was hemorrhaging f*cks.

I started experiencing a serious f*ck deficit.

Now here I am, almost entirely unable to give a single f*ck sometimes.  To be perfectly honest, parenting has driven me to this and I've come to terms with it.  The truth is, in a lot of ways, it's made me a way better parent.  At the same time, it's always nice to have a few f*cks on hand, just in case. 

Now things like this happen to me and because I have so few f*cks to give, it's all good:

Child refuses to walk, pretends to be homeless on busy sidewalk.  Elderly folk glare at me about my horrible parenting abilities.

Child has fit in grocery store because I won't buy him Sunny Delight, which he's never even had before and I'm pretty sure would put him into a diabetic coma.

Child eats goldfish crackers off floor pretending to be a cat.

Child empties drawer, completely unrolls million foot long roll of wax paper. I had to clean that up, you know!

Child refuses to walk (again).  Won't be put in carrier, refuses stroller. Thinks he can hide behind pole because he doesn't understand physics.

Child wears pants never.  Has tantrum and falls asleep under kitchen table. This is because he didn't want to wear pants, but required orange juice, which we didn't have, and insisted we go to the store to buy it but only if he could go with no pants.
Child refuses to walk, basically attempts break and entering into the yard of a complete stranger.
At this point you are probably like "where are you going with this, Monika, is it good to have f*cks or not!?! Make up your mind!"

Ok, ok:

The moral of my story here is that you should hold on to your f*cks if you can.  You should have f*cks for sure, but you shouldn't be giving them all the time.  A f*ck doesn't have to be given about every little thing. Sometimes f*cks are necessary, and while it feels like you should give a ton of them, maybe you should really only give one.  If you are giving f*cks all the time, you will eventually run out of f*cks.  Then you just turn into an asshole.

Right now I'm in the process of slowly regrowing my f*cks.  As they regenerate, I'm very careful about how I give them.  For example, if other people parent differently than me, that's not really worth a f*ck.  If my kid is about to run into traffic, that's worth as many f*cks as I can muster.  

Don't worry too much about me with regard to this; I've learned my lesson and now I'm just really careful about when I give a f*ck.  It would be nice to have my f*ck stores replenished but since I was so careless with them for so long I recognize that may take some time. 

I'm sorry if this post has offended you, but you will understand when I say that I can't give a f*ck.

 
Vote for us on Top Baby Blogs!
Vote for us on Picket Fence Blogs!

No comments:

Post a Comment

I've adopted the same commenting policy as seen here at Off Beat Mama (http://offbeatmama.com/about/comments). I won't post comments if they strike me as attacking, judgmental, rude, or unproductive. In general if you are willing to put your name to something, I'll post it, but remember to keep your words sweet, because someday you may have to eat them.