Monday, August 2, 2010

I love (my) children?

Don't you just hate children? Aw, come on. I'm not the only one. You bust your ass providing for them, you cook, clean, do hair, bake (!), discipline, give advice, schlep, shop, and (fill in your own thankless chore here) and what do they do for you? Say thanks? Be obedient? Keep your house clean? Those little suckers latch on like a calf at the teat and hold on for dear life, totally and completely dependent on you. Somebody should repeal the child labor laws so I can put these freeloaders to work and finally get something out of this abyss called parenthood.

Whew! Glad I got that off my chest.

Hidden in the darkest crevices of my being is a thin, happy woman who marvels at the wonderment of childhood; its innocence, its naiveness (just found out that was a word), its unconditional love, blah, blah, blah. On the surface, though, is a fat, bitter bitch who wishes people were born at age 30, knowledgeable and not annoying in the least.

Then again I know a lot of annoying 30-year-olds...

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