I Don't Care About Your Problems

I mean, I love you and all, but let me just say this as gently as I can:  Shut the hell up and don't tell me a single word about how your brother or sister has wronged you in some entirely-new-to-the-human-experience way that shatters all measures of cruelty, offends decent people everywhere, and shaves years off your time in Purgatory.  I don't care.  When I say I don't care, what I mean is, I would rather listen to fingernails on a chalkboard, than be asked to mediate another argument for which I was not present, and which might require me to actually make a decision aka choose sides, and that's a trap I need to avoid like the Bubonic Plague.  I would rather go all Vincent Van Gogh on the side of my head than listen to the screeches currently emanating from your mouth.  Put another way, I'd rather listen to Ke$ha than to you right now.  I would rather have South Park on -- loud -- in a room with my five year old.  I would rather go de-flea the dog than be subjected to your Life Is So Not Fair and Why Do They Hate Me and Do You Like Seeing Me Suffer narratives.

I'm fairly certain that I have talked myself blue in the face with suggestions, with strategies for getting along.  I'm sure you know The Golden Rule.  And no, there is no addendum to that rule that reads "...as long as they go first."  I'm done encouraging you to rise above the fray, to take the high road, to be a peacemaker.  Conflict resolution?  Load of crap in reality.

I know you want to justify to me why your sister just sprinted past me screaming bloody murder with you in hot pursuit with that special murderous look upon your face.  I know you want to justify the pain you inflicted on your brother by filling me in on just how completely rotten and evil he is.  I don't care.  And when I say I don't care, I'm really saying that if you don't shut your pie hole now I will bypass Van Gogh and skip straight to Linda Blair, and you don't really want to see your mother's head spinning around on top her neck, do you?

I really, truly, with every fiber of my being do. not. care. why you are being a total pain in the ass.  I just want you to stop.

Stop.

Stop yelling.  Stop fighting.  Stop bitching and moaning.  While you're at it, why don't you just stop talking altogether?  Just shut it.  Please.  I beg you, I beseech you, if you have any gratitude at all, even the slightest smidge, for the fact that I shoved you into this world, you will be blessedly, finally, silent.

Because I love you.  But I don't care about your sibling problems.  I just want you all to be very, very quiet.


Comments

nicole said…
so it was a good day?
Kristin said…
wow. that's really powerful writing. is that really how you feel?
YES!... and, way to go! ehem, de best parenteeng is the less parenteeng...
Sandy said…
Is there an 11 year old somewhere in that mix? because I swear that my grandson makes me feel JUST LIKE THAT! Hope tomorrow is easier.
That sounds really familiar.

You have to rent/stream/whatever the DVD of Bill Cosby's stand-up routine from the 80's. It is so much funnier now that I am a parent. "I don't want justice, I just want QUIET!" I was laughing so hard I was crying.
Heather said…
Yes. That's all I have to say :)
Another Brick said…
Oh my gosh, I am really grateful to have read this post. I just found this website through a mutual friend (Jennifer P., I was a JV too!) and have been reading it. I have 4 kids (4,6,8 and 10) and I have lost my sense of humor a bit. This helps bring it back. Thanks!

ps I would email you but I can't; the thing won't let me.
Another Brick said…
wait, why am I called "another brick"? Man, I have to figure out how to use these things better...

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