I Want My Epidural Back Page 11

  Like once I went on this long plane ride and this total Sanctimommy was sitting in front of us on the plane and she was all . . .

  SANCTIMOMMY: No, kids, you know you only get screen time on Saturdays. I didn’t even bring the iPad with me so you wouldn’t be tempted.

  Cut to thirty minutes later when both kids are playing a game of Who can screech the loudest? and Sanctimommy has thrown herself across the people in the exit row and is desperately trying to open the emergency hatch so she can throw herself out of the plane and the people in that row aren’t even fighting her because they’re debating whether it might in fact be the best option right now.

  Now this would be a good time to break out the iPad. Could I have loaned her one of mine? Sure. But it’s Wednesday!! And remember, no screen time on Wednesdays. Plus, watching Sanctimommy’s shit-show was more entertaining than the shitty sitcom they were showing on the drop-down TVs. Hmmm, I wonder what ever happened to her. I’m guessing she’s living out the rest of her days in a padded cell somewhere, replaying Pinterest projects in her head.

  So is it okay to let your kiddo get in some good lack-of-quality screen time when you’re out and about in a public space? F yeah.

  But here’s the thing: don’t be a douchebag about it.

  YOU: What?!!! But I thought letting my kid play Space Invaders while we were at Starbucks was the nice thing to do so he wouldn’t bother everyone around us.

  Uhhhh, mayyybe. Is he playing it with headphones? Is he playing it on like the lowest volume possible? Because if every person in a twenty-foot radius has to listen to peeew peeew peeeew for like thirty minutes straight, you’re being a shartrag.

  Because you, my dear, are a mommy, and mommies have the superhero power ability to tune shit out. This is why when I’m standing in line at the bagel place and my kid says, “Mommy Mommy Mommy Mommy Mommy Mommy Mommy Mommy,” the bagel lady is like, “Helllllllo, are you going to answer your child?” And I’m like, “Lady, I’m basically deaf until he says it at least sixteen times.” It’s an amazing superpower ability, but it totally screws the people around you if you’re not careful with it. Muhahahahaha, be careful with your strength, oh powerful one.

  So in conclusion, yes, get out your iPads, your iPhones, your LeapPads, your other tablets that I don’t know the names of, etc., etc., etc., and use them so you can stay sane and not kill your children or yourself, but try to be responsible about it. The world already hates parents of young children enough.

  When I tell my son he can’t watch any more TV because he’s had enough screen time already, I can’t help but feel doubly victorious. Not only is he not zoned out in front of some stupid show, but he also gets tons of exercise by flailing about and throwing a tantrum.

  All in favor of feeding rat poison to Chuck E. Cheese, say aye!!

  ZOEY: Ewwww, I HATE Barbies!! Let’s play fairies.

  ELSA: No, I HATE fairies. I wanna play house.

  ZOEY: House is for babies.

  ELSA: Is not!

  ZOEY: Is too!!

  I mean seriously, you guys are both wrong. All of those games are stupid and boring as shit and if I wanted to listen to two crotchmuffins fight all day, I would just have Zoey hang out with her brother and I wouldn’t have offered to host a playdate. But Elsa’s mom isn’t coming back to pick her up for three hours, so I have to figure out something that’ll make them both happy.

  ME: Who wants to go to Chuck E. Cheese?!!

  And suddenly they’re screaming and screeching and hugging each other like they’ve been stranded on a desert island and Justin Bieber just pulled up on his yacht without his shirt on.

  Now part of me is feeling awesome because I’m about to host the bestest playdate ever, but the other part of me is like, nooooo, WTF were you thinking giving them that option? Because Chuck E. Cheese pretty much sucks more ass than any ass-sucking place there is. And here are seven reasons why:

  1. THE TUUUUBE

  You know, that gerbil tube that’s hanging from the ceiling that the kids are supposed to crawl inside. The way I see it, those tubes are pretty much the CDC without protective clothing and doors that zip closed. I’m like, “Come on kids, take off your shoes, it’s time to get Ebola!!” Because do you know what happens inside that tube? A bazillion kids crawl around in there and they all breathe in each other’s nasty-ass germs. And I literally mean ASS germs because they’re on all fours and everyone has someone else’s ass in their face. Until one little douchenugget in there craps his diaper or blows pizza chunks out his pie-hole and the kids all have to make a mad dash for the nearest exit. And God forbid your kid is the wussy who can’t figure out how to get out and needs you to come in to rescue him. Whatever you do, no matter how loud he screams, even if he sounds like he’s on fire, DO NOT go in there. I’m serious. No kid is worth it. Just call in an Amber Alert and let the police take care of the situation.

  2. STUPID, SHITTY GAMES

  I mean yeah, a lot of the games at Chuck E. Cheese are fun and cute and take at least 17 seconds to play. And then there’s like this whole set of games that you just drop your token in and it rolls down a ramp and IF it lands on the right lily pad you win a ticket or two. But it takes zero skill and you can never hit the right spot and you might as well just put your money into a broken vending machine. I mean seriously, playing these games is like if someone was standing in front of you and every five seconds you just handed them a quarter.

  YOU: Here you go . . . 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 . . . here you go . . . 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 . . . here you go . . . 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. . . .

  And sixty minutes later, you’re out $180. I shit you not, I just did the math. Well, my calculator did. But I had to figure out what numbers to plug into my calculator and holy crap is that hard.

  3. FAKE MONEY YOU CAN’T USE ANYWHERE ELSE

  Awww shit, like four days after going to Chuck E. Cheese I’m paying for my overpriced mochaccinolatte at the coffee shop and the hipster behind the counter is like, “Uhhhh, we don’t take rat money,” and I see that I’ve handed him a gold token and I’m mortified. So when I get home, I take all the Chuck E. Cheese tokens out of my wallet and put them in a baggie to save them for the next time we go. And then the next time we go, I’m like, awww shit, I totally forgot to bring our baggie of old tokens. Like seriously, I think I have tokens from 1947.

  4. THE RAT

  Have you ever wondered how they came up with the Chuck E. Cheese mascot?

  FOUNDER: Do you think we should have like a mascot for our restaurant?

  OTHER FOUNDER: Yeah. What about a bird?

  FOUNDER: Nahh, birds freak me out. A badger?

  OTHER FOUNDER: I don’t even know WTF a badger is. How about a mouse?

  FOUNDER: Helllllloooo, brainiac, I think a big theme park is already using that one.

  OTHER FOUNDER: Okay, fine, what about a rat? A rat is kind of like a mouse.

  FOUNDER: A rat, yes! No one’s using that. But people don’t really like rats in restaurants, do they?

  OTHER FOUNDER: Fine, let’s just put a bunch of video games in there and then they won’t care about the rat.

  FOUNDER: Brilliant!

  5. THE TICKETS

  “Hey, kids, time to go!!! Let’s cash in our tickets.” And then I watch them count out their tickets and one kid has 24 and the other kid has 89. Awesome, this is going to go over well.

  KIDDO: How come she has so many?

  ME: Because she’s really good at games and you suck ass. Now let’s go get her a bunch of cool prizes and see if you can afford anything.

  6. THE SALAD BAR

  Wait a second, did you forget to pick up your free Ebola in the gerbil tube? Awww, no worries, because you can just grab it from the salad bar. I mean seriously? Who the F decided to put a salad bar in this place? Ooooh, here’s an idea. After everyone has touched joysticks and Skee-Balls and other things that are covered in boogers and never get cleaned, let’s have them grab utensils and serve themselves fresh veggies from communal bins. Mm
mmm, baby tomatoes with tuberculosis. Deeelish.

  7. CASHING IN YOUR TICKETS

  KID: Oooh, oooh, I want that SpongeBob toy!

  ME: You need one thousand tickets for that.

  KID: How many do I have?

  ME: Twenty-four.

  KID: Can I get that bouncy ball?

  ME: You need five hundred tickets for that.

  KID: How many do I have?

  ME: Twenty-four.

  KID: How about that map?

  ME: Two hundred and fifty. You have twenty-four. Look in that case down below.

  KID: What can I get for twenty-four tickets?

  ME: A Tootsie Roll and a plastic lizard.

  KID: Wahhh, I don’t want a plastic lizard.

  ME: Fine, two Tootsie Rolls.

  KID: Can I get a whistle?

  ME: (faking disappointment) Oh nooo, I’m so sorry, but you need twenty-FIVE tickets to get an annoying whistle that will make me want to chop my ears off.

  PIMPLY KID BEHIND THE COUNTER: It’s okay, I’ll give her a whistle for twenty-four tickets.

  ME: (through gritted teeth) Yo dumbass, shut the F up.

  KID: Yayyyyyy!!! Can I get it?!

  ME: If you’re taking public transportation home and not driving home with me.

  (Cut to 20 minutes later.)

  KID: WOOOOOOOO!!! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!

  ME: I HATE you, Chuck E. Cheese.

  One kid wanted to watch Cars and the other wanted to watch Cinderella.

  So we’re watching Days of Our Lives.

  Gag me with a 5-Minute Spider-Man Story

  HOLDEN: Mommy, I want this one.

  ME: Noooooo, pleeeease don’t make me read 5-Minute Spider-Man Stories again. For the love of God, it will kill me!!!

  How did Jesus die? He was crucified. How did the dinosaurs die? An asteroid. How did all the mothers die? They died of boredom when their kids made them read 5-Minute Spider-Man Stories AGAIN. Seriously, have you ever opened this book? It’s like one painstaking story after another of Spider-Man battling some stupid villain and it’s poorly written (even shittier than my writing). Oh, and here’s the stupidest thing of all about it. Even though every story is only five minutes long, every story ends on the left page, and the next story starts on the right page, so whenever you finish a chapter, your kid can see the next chapter and FA-REAKS out because he wants you to read it NOWWWW!!!! So it’s not 5-Minute Spider-Man Stories. It’s TWENTY-Minute Spider-Man Stories because you have to read a bunch of them.

  And FYI, 5-Minute Spider-Man Stories is not the only torturous book like this. They make a shitload of these five-minute books, like 5-Minute Princess Stories and 5-Minute Bible Stories and 5-Minute Snuggle Stories, and no, I didn’t make that last one up. That is what it’s called. Seriously. What it really should be called is 5-Minute Stories That Make Mom Want to Stab Her Eyes Out with an Ice Pick because then she wouldn’t have to read it because she would be blind and they don’t make these stupid books in braille. Or maybe they do, which would be totally wrong because isn’t life hard enough already being blind? But I digress.

  Anyways, I’m putting the kids to bed and it’s Holden’s turn to pick a book and, of course, this is the shit he picks out. So I make him an offer.

  ME: Buddy, instead of reading this, what if I tell you guys a story you’ve never heard before?

  BOTH KIDS: What is it?

  ME: It’s good. I promise (even though I have no F’ing idea what it’s gonna be).

  And they reluctantly agree to it.

  ME: Okay. Once upon a time there was this really fun boy who lived in a house and one night there were some strange noises outside. He went outside to investigate and he found a weird creature in their shed, so he put out a trail of Reese’s Pieces and the creature started eating the candy and came out. That’s when the boy found out it wasn’t a creature. It was an alien!! And even though the boy was scared, he found out the alien was actually really nice, so he let the alien come live in his house, until one day some bad men wanted to catch the alien. The boy and his big brother got on their bikes and they put the alien in a little basket on the front of the bike and they rode as fast as they could to the forest and the alien’s family came down in a spaceship to save him and take him back home to their planet. The boy and the alien were very sad to say good-bye, but they gave each other a big hug and said they would remember each other forever and ever. The End.

  ZOEY: That was cool!!

  HOLDEN: Yeah!!! What color was the spaceship?

  ME: Silver.

  ZOEY: ANOTHER STORY! ANOTHER!!

  Hells yeah! (a) I F’ing rock, and (b) I didn’t have to read any of that five-minute story crap. Because here’s the thing. If your kids are all like, “Tell us a story! Tell us a story,” all you have to do is tell them the plot of a movie from the 1980s. Seriously, all 1980s movies are awesome for this. Try it.

  The Breakfast Club: Once upon a time there were five kids who got in trouble and had to have a time-out all day long . . .

  The Karate Kid: Once upon a time there was a boy who didn’t have any friends except for this old man who could catch flies with chopsticks . . .

  Can’t Buy Me Love: Once upon a time there was a girl who was wearing a white dress but her friend accidentally spilled grape juice all over it . . .

  Sixteen Candles: Once upon a time there was a girl and it was her birthday but everyone forgot except for one really nice boy at school . . .

  Coming to America: Once upon a time there was a prince in Africa and he came all the way to America to find his true love and he found her at McDonald’s . . .

  Footloose: Once upon a time there was a boy who lived in a town where it was against the law to dance . . .

  See? I could go on and on. The plots are simple but creative, and the characters are awesome. So there you go. The next time your kid asks you to read some annoying book, or the next time you’re stuck on a long car ride and you don’t want to stop and look at the giantest ball of string or play another riveting game of I Spy, or the next time you end up waiting in the doctor’s office for nine million minutes until you wonder whether they forgot about you, just reach into your radical brain for your most totally tubular, awesome 1980s movie. You’re welcome.

  Awww, the kids are playing massage parlor with their stuffed animals. How cute!! Oh, and in case you’re wondering what they’re using to give massages, let’s just say it came out of my nightstand drawer. Bzzzzzzz. Awesome.

  ME: Zoey, if you ask me to play with the iPhone ONE MORE TIME this morning, you’re not going to be allowed to play on it for the rest of the day.

  ZOEY: Mom—

  ME: Think about what you’re about to say.

  ZOEY: Can I play with the iPAD?

  MY HUBBY IS AWESOME

  (But Not as Awesome as Me)

  DO I LOVE MY HUBBY? MORE THAN ANYONE ON earth (yes, even Channing Tatum, but don’t tell Channing I said that just in case he decides to divorce Jenna and marry me). But there are days I’m like, aggghhhhhh, why can’t my hubby do as good a job as me?!! Think, damn it. Multitask, damn it. How hard is it to get the kids dressed BEFORE they come down for breakfast? I mean don’t get me wrong, my hubby’s super amazing at doing lots of shit. Like tossing our kiddos around like beanbags, teaching them how to burp and fart in the bathtub, and riling them up before bedtime. So F’ing helpful.

  P.S. HONEY, IF YOU’RE READING THIS, PLEASE SKIP THIS section. Because I’m about to rag on you. A lot. And to all the other daddies out there reading this, I’m sure none of this applies to you. Right, mommies? Wink, wink.

  What you should REALLY F’ing look for in a husband

  BACK IN THE DAY before my under-eyes looked like they were made of elephant skin and my vajayjay actually did its job and held shit in (yeah, I’m talkin’ to you, ’gina), I used to dream about my future hubby. I used to say shit like, “Mostly I want to find a man who’s funny and makes me laugh.” But now that I have kids,
I’m like screw that. Laughter is so overrated. Because if you’re still single, here are some things you’re really gonna want in your future baby daddy.

  1. Pick someone who’s a light sleeper, so when your little crotchmuffin is screaming in the middle of the night, your better half isn’t going to be your shittier half snoring away in lalaland while you haul your ass out of bed every time.