Well, my tampon story didn’t go over so great, so I guess I’ll keep my blogs to men, work, and tiny mexican growths on my back. I know people have said it before, but why in heaven almighty is there not parenting laws and guidelines that are MANDATORY in order to be a parent/own a child?
Saturday I gained a greater appreciation and a lot more respect for my little sister. It was her 7th birthday and like any onlyish child she is spoiled. She has everything a 7 year old could ever want, and gets anything and everything she sets her eyes on. She’s a good kid though, she obeys, does well in school, and is generally respectful to minorities and elders.
In the spirit of rotten onlyish children and 7th birthday’s my mom threw my sister not 1 but 2 birthday parties. She let her have her first boy/girl friend party at Chuck-E Cheese on Friday night, and Saturday was the family party where I got to invite my friends that have kids. When practically everyone in the family broke the news to my mom that they had other plans they let my sister invite one of her friends along to the party, we’ll call her Chunky Salsa.
Chunky Salsa came over to our house about 2:30 when the party didn’t start until 4. I thought it was going to be ok, they’d keep each other entertained and I could do my thing, nbd. As soon as Chunky Salsa walked in the door Ella said to her, “Hey wanna see my sister?” As if she had been talking about this alleged “sister” at school for 2 years and all of her friends called her out on her imaginary sister bluff. Chunky Salsa stomped in and asked if I’m Ella’s real sister? When I told her yes she took it upon herself to plop down next to me and grill me about my effing life story. 6 years old, and asking questions like, “How much money do you make?”,”Why aren’t you married?”and “Why don’t you have any babies?” OK! I get it I’m a loser! Now, shut your pie hole you little chimichanga.
I retreated upstairs to my “room” which since I moved out has become a toy/play room and Chunky Salsa followed me with her spotlight and list of questions. I politely told her to get the fuck out so I could put my swimsuit on for the party and she questioned it. It was at that point when I realized what I was dealing with here. A stage 5 clinger. Until we left for the party all I heard was, “Ella where’s your sister?”, “Can I sit by your sister in the car?” Blah blah blah blah blahhhhhh!
Please spare me the child pity party and don’t go all, but you’re a role model she looks up to you, because that is a pile of horseshit. I’m a role model to my sister who knows me. Not to Chunky Salsa who met me 5 seconds ago, who is clearly a follower, and would snort a big pile of crack off the back of a toilet if I told her to right now. mmmNO.
Finally the party was underway, Betty showed up with her 3 year old little girl and we got in the pool. Immediately Chunky Salsa was up my ass hanging off me like a damn monkey. I kept trying to bribe her with false promises that we could hang out later if she’d just go play with the other kids while I caught up with Betty and gawked at the hot lifeguards, no go for big C.S.
I’m sure everyone is feeling sorry for Chunky Salsa right now because she’s a little girl and why don’t I have a heart for this poor little girl who clearly needs attention. Umm because she fondled my boobs, that’s why. Between climbing up my back like a fucking monkey and interrupting mine and Betty’s convo to tell me she “forgot what she was going to say” she felt me up and I am NOT ok with that. So I went into ditch Chunky Salsa mode.
Eventually I conned her into acting like an adult and going down the slide non-stop like the rest of the kids and she left me alone for the last 30 minutes of the party. Then came dinner. I rode with my grandmother to the restaurant to escape Chunky Salsa for 5 minutes and she threw a fit because she wasn’t allowed to ride in my grandma’s car.
Then, when we got to the restaurant she had to sit next to me, which is whatever… I mean my sister does that, but it’s my sister and it doesn’t bug me when she does it because I’m not a stranger like I am to this little girl. Like hello little girl, come get in my white astro van and eat some of this candy. No.
While we’re on the topic of street smarts the little girl has absolutely no manners. I’d like to think when I was 6 about to turn 7 I knew better then to take a handful of cake and shove it into my mouth before dinner was served, and most importantly before we sang Happy Birthday, or even decided it was time for cake. But not Chunky Salsa, as soon as we sat down at the table I had enough, she looked at me and said, “I’m hungry.” Ok you little fat fuck what the fuck do you want me to do about it? Whip out my teet and give you some lunch? No. Eat your fucking napkin, I don’t care. So I ignored her and she started repeating it non-stop until I looked over and screamed, “OK! Well you’re just going to have to wait!!! We just sat down!” And that’s when she got up and helped herself to a heaping handful of cake. Then proceeded to eat like 8 pieces of pizza and 3 more pieces of cake, I’m not one to judge but no fucking wonder the child is fat – I can’t even eat that much.
The party was dwindling down and after I finally pulled my mom to the side and told her if Chunky Salsa said one more word to me I was going to punch her in the face and not go to jail for it things slightly improved. Until I picked up my purse to go to the bathroom and Chunky Salsa’s Gizzy’s on the move radar went off and she ran over and was all, “Where you going?” When I said to the bathroom she was all oh I’m coming with you and I was like, um nevermind I’m waiting. Like really? I can’t even go to the bathroom alone? She would’ve wanted to come in the stall with me and that’s just weird, I already had to explain periods to her when she went through my purse without asking and found a tampon, like the question and answer portion of this day is over. I am done.
Honestly, this just scared me out of having kids, like ever. If my kids ever grew up to be like Chunky Salsa I would sell them and buy myself a new 2 seater. NoThankYou.