Everyone, Niya knows her shit:
<br /><br /><object classid=”clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000″ codebase=”http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,29,0″ width=”640″ height=”385″><param name=”movie” value=”http://www.youtube.com/v/qWTKU_ufR0Q&hl=en_US&fs=1″ /><param name=”quality” value=”high” /><param name=”menu” value=”false” /><param name=”wmode” value=”” /></object><br /><br />
Now, I’m not saying that being a stay-at-home mom is easy. I really have no idea. I’ve heard that it can be stressful to sleep for no more than two hours at a stretch, wipe projectile human feces off the wall, and never get to pee alone, so I’ve worked fairly hard at avoiding getting knocked up (that’s right, did any of you take the bus to Planned Parenthood when you were 15?). Although I have never experienced any of these things for child-related reasons, I imagine that they are difficult to endure each and every day without getting labor law-sanctioned breaks.
Also, let me say that in no way do I believe all stay-at-home moms to be shiftless layabouts. My friend Sandy stays at home with two boys under five who can be, in her words, “such poopheads,” and she still manages to be a rational human being. Sandy would never load the dishwasher and call it a day because she’s not an asshole. Also, ahem, two boys under five in the house. Know what boys under five do? They destroy. They are put on earth to laugh hysterically at diarrhea jokes and destroy everything.
So there. Being a parent is probably hard in ways I am incapable of imagining.
With that said, someone tell me why I should be amused by someone on my Facebook feed who has one school aged child and posts statuses about how the best way to relax after doing a load of laundry is hanging out by the pool and taking a nap. Later, their post-nap status is a gripe about how sleeping hours longer than they’d intended is really going to mess with their sleep schedule.
People, I am STRESSED. I feel like between Job 1, Job 2, making calls, doing laundry, doing dishes, cleaning the goddamn cat box because these goddamn cats cannot possibly be shitting this goddamn much but they are, buying groceries, taking a shower, cooking dinner, making more calls because apparently people would rather put ultra-damaging shit on your credit report than ever get paid if the way they don’t return messages is any indication, maintaining a relationship, babysitting my nephew, worrying about a home loan, worrying about that TV show, imitating some mad hermit’s idea of a social life, trying to write, making even more fucking calls, and maybe getting to bed at a decent hour – I’m drowning over here. I barely realize I’m conscious most of the time.
If anyone would suggest the idea of hanging out by the pool and taking a nap to celebrate the most menial of the above tasks, I’m sure I’d look at them like I didn’t know language. I don’t even have kids and I’m too busy for that shit. I find it very hard to be impressed with someone for being that kind of a stay-at-home parent, because I’m doing waaaaay more than they are and no one’s giving me cards for being a badass.
Where’s my pool party? Where’s Sandy’s? Where is everyone else’s who spends the majority of their awake time dealing with people – both large and small – who have the logical reasoning capacity of a pack of retarded dogs?
I may be a little lot jealous of this person’s lot in life. Fine. I’ll admit it. But you know what, I’ve been at work all day. I have literally earned my right to be that way.
Fucking right, Niya. Part II!
<br /><br /><object classid=”clsid:D27CDB6E-AE6D-11cf-96B8-444553540000″ codebase=”http://download.macromedia.com/pub/shockwave/cabs/flash/swflash.cab#version=6,0,29,0″ width=”640″ height=”385″><param name=”movie” value=”http://www.youtube.com/v/hlGhfW_fs5w&hl=en_US&fs=1″ /><param name=”quality” value=”high” /><param name=”menu” value=”false” /><param name=”wmode” value=”” /></object>