Saturday, June 2, 2012

Ranting and Reproducing

When I tell the children to go outside and play, I do NOT mean go outside and sit on your ass and check your cell phone.  First, you are too fucking young to have a smartphone, let alone a Facebook.  Second, your brother is SIX MOTHER FUCKING YEARS OLD and does not by any means require a cell phone either.  Third, it's JUNE. It's WARM.  It's BEAUTIFUL outside.  And guess what? We are FIVE FUCKING HOUSES away from a playground.  Fourth, you are still kids and therefore you still play.

What gets me is the fact that Baby Mama Numero Dos maintains that the kids LOOOOOOOOOVE to be outside.  Um, really? Is this a figment of your imagination? Because let me tell you, we have to almost resort to physical contact to get these ingrates out the door.  Why, you ask? Well, let's see here.  Stepdaughter is sooooo like, IDK, caught up in like seventh grade drama to the nth power and will wither and die without her electronics and I am convinced the youngest stepson is just mentally incapable of doing anything other than sitting in front of a television and playing video games.  

When I was their age, you couldn't get me INSIDE.  God, the days of riding bikes, roller skating, playing board games, hide and seek, and making up our own stupid games was the best.  Those activities defined my childhood until I was a teenager.  Even now, I am not against going outside and riding a bike. And I still love board games.  Kids these days....I will never understand it. When they look back on their childhood, all they will see is a wasted youth.  Unless, of course, it involves spending money on them. 

I will not bribe my stepkids.  It's bad enough that Baby Mama Numero Dos has brought her ingrates up on the concept of "Tax Time" and that it's ok to blow that earned income credit EVERY YEAR by buying overpriced items but still staying in some shitty ass apartment. Then she has the audacity to ask us why we are moving.  Um, HELLO?!?! We live in the fucking GHETTO.  Oh, and through hard work and dedication we have managed to better our living situation.  That way YOUR ingrates have a place to safely play OUTSIDE and I do not have to fear my house being shot up.  Not to mention your drama queen of a daughter will not even stay here for an hour by herself.  So, we have goals that we have met and you are still stuck in your little box of hell that you whine and  complain about and stuff full of shit like the people on that show "Hoarders."  Good for you.  I am ever so glad that you feel your life is superior to mine. 

Fuck me running backwards with a chainsaw.  

So, then there's the issue of the oldest stepson, the one from Baby Mama Number One.  Dear God. Please help me.  He is almost 18 years old and he's fucked.  For one thing, he will only be a junior this coming school year.  If he even passed, because I don't know because he lies.  Oh, and he's stolen his mother's and her boyfriend's credit cards.  And he is dirty.  And he is dating some homely broad who has bipolar disorder who doesn't take her meds regularly.  They are both EMO kids.  I think their idea of a date is sitting in a dark basement listening to Bullet For My Valentine and cutting themselves.  Did I mention he destroyed my microwave? Yeah, he decided to warm up something in there and it burned and he left it for me to clean up...the next day.  

He's a special one.
I wish I could say that I love my stepchildren but I really don't.  I like them and all but in reality I am on a countdown to the day they all turn 18 and I don't have to feel like I'm somewhat responsible for them.  They are all fucked up, on meds, and have absolutely no clue about life, responsibility, privileges, and did I mention LIFE? I'm sorry, but things just don't get handed to you.  They are earned.  And you treat your property like gold because that's how you become RESPONSIBLE.  Just because you are 12 doesn't mean you get a laptop, new clothes, a boyfriend, a smartphone, and everything else you may want.  How about you get clothes because they are needed and everything else stays on hold?  There's a concept.  

How about instead of living off my expensive orange juice you go get a job and buy your own? And throw in a microwave too since mine just happened to get fucked up by some ass teen who is lazy and won't lift a finger except to play the XBox. 

I don't think that I would be able to have the kids full time.  I love my freedom.  I don't like my world being shaken up when they are here.  I am antsy.  I feel like a prisoner in my own house.  Ugh. And all I really wanted to bitch about was them not knowing how to go outside and play.