Meet My Family

My name is Mommy Rotten.  And really, for real, this is my real name.  On my birth certificate and other identification I use a different name because it helps me navigate the world in which we live but Mommy Rotten is a better representation of who I really am.  I have to hide my true identity not so much out of self-preservation, but more because if some of the other mommies out there found out who I really was they wouldn't let their kids play with mine and then I wouldn't have anywhere to send them when I can't stand them anymore.

My husband, Daddy Rotten, is shell-shocked from parenting just like me.  We actually have a hidey-hole in the basement that we call "The Bunker" where we go and hide from our kids.  We told them not to go down there because of the giant biting spiders.  Anyway he doesn't say much when I regale him with the fresh horrors our boys unleashed on me during the day.  He just sort of stares at his computer monitor and grunts.  I think if he actually tried to talk about it his head might explode.  His contribution is occasionally yelling at them for me and providing me with alcohol.

I am effectively a stay at home mom of two boys, Frick and Frack.  I have no political ideas about staying at home, it's just that when we found out how much daycare cost for a family that can afford a house (barely) I would essentially be working to pay for child care.  However I have found this kind of convenient because it aids in my disguise.  Because to the rest of the world I am a mild-mannered, stay at home mommy, who bakes bread and goes to church.  But in reality I am a super-hero.  A woman who is capable of dealing with her kids every day without actually murdering them and can still manage to maintain her alter-ego.

And again on the surface the church and baking stuff looks good but in reality I bake bread just because I really enjoy cooking for purely selfish reasons and I go to church because I am interested in learning about religion right now, not because I am a particularly good person.  Next year I will probably visit a satanic cult.  You know, just to balance things out.

Frick is ten and Frack is three and you would think with an age difference like that they wouldn't fight.  You would think.  But they fight over every damn thing you could possibly imagine.  The only upshot of the age difference is that Frick holds back.  My mother had her kids back to back so we inflicted real and permanent damage on each other.  Both my brothers have chips in their teeth to this day.  My hair grew back, eventually, but I have a small bruise on my nose that never seemed to go away.  Frick opts for the kind of assholery he thinks he can get away with.  Run of the mill, big brother, "I'm not touching you, I'm not touching you" stuff.

Frack is three and so is utterly unreasonable about everything, which amuses Frick to no end because it makes him such an easy target.  Frack also destroys anything that he touches.  Like any other three year old he is into everything and is generally a menace to himself and everyone around him.  But this child has made me yearn for the days when Frick, at the same age, used to scream and hurl insults at me when I called him on his bullshit.  When you reprimand Frack in any way he puts his face in his hands and sobs quietly in heartbreak.  I know, it sounds kind of adorable right?

But it isn't because the rest of the time he is acting like such an ASSHOLE! I won't go much into the details of just how he does this, you'll just have to take my word for it right now.  I promise you, if any other human being treated you the way this kid treats me you would punch them in the face.  But this kid keeps putting me in the position of comforting him because he started screaming irrationally at me.

So this is my family.  They are slowly eroding my sanity but I love them.   Because I have to.  Please understand that what I want to write here is not serious.  I need to vent and I need to do it honestly or it just defeats the purpose.  In order to maintain my kids' anonymity I will let you know that everything I write is about 15% bullshit.  This way you will never really know which stuff actually happened and which stuff is made up because it will all be so fucking crazy.  In fact let's just say that if something I write offends you, save your comments and relegate that to the 15%.

Happy reading!