Spawn wants to be inspired. He told me that this week. I don’t doubt that he is seeking stimulation. School’s out for summer and my kid is always looking for an exciting escapade, but I know he’s repeating a phrase that is constantly escaping my flapping yap; “I just looking for inspiration.”
When I’m sitting on the kitchen floor with my head in my hands, exhausted from whatever has knocking me down on any particular day and my kids ask what I’m doing, I tell them, “I’m looking for inspiration.”
Who are these parents who don’t yell, lose their tempers, forget to sign important permission slips, drop F-bombs, or get so behind on the laundry that they are up well past the point of collapse so that the specifically requested clothes are clean and ready to wear?
Now I’ve never met one of these people, but I’ve heard that they exist. Like the Loch Ness Monster or the elusive Yeti, these inspiring parents lurk somewhere between fantasy and reality. I mean, nobody has actually SEEN these people, but stories of their existence can be found in every culture’s folklore.
Well, I’m looking for one of them, just one, because I need to be inspired. With the first week of summer vacation behind me and a string of shameful profanity and impatient, smart ass responses to the victims of my loins, I am in dire need of a muse.
I had heard through the grapevine (and no less than 100 emails from MWDAS fans) about a man named Adam Mansbach. I checked into this bit of what seemed to be folklore and found that he is a real person, and NOT a Gogmagog!
Of course I didn’t think he was from the mighty clan of giants from Albion, but how else could I visualize a man so aggressive and horrible that would even think to utter such vulgarity at innocent children at bedtime?
Who the FUCK was this mindreading master who was spinning such literary gold?
Only my inspiration, Adam! I’ve been in the spotlight as the foul mouthed Mom who tells it like it is for a few years, riding the wave of love when people understand and feel supported, and then sucked into the undertow by the criticism of mean spirited and non-freaky folks.
I see the celebration of his wonderful book and of course, I have also read some of the criticisms. I’m stoked for Adam to be rolling in cash. Any parent who doesn’t see the absolute GENIUS in this heartfelt and hilarious masterpiece has a broken funny bone stuck up their ass.
“Fuck you stuffed bear; I’m not getting you shit. Close your eyes cut the crap. Sleep,” is so much more inspiring to me than the 500 different suggestions by experts, specialists, doctors, grandparents, neighbors, etc. about getting the ankle biters to stop stalling and GO THE FUCK TO SLEEP!
So there! I AM INSPIRED BY ADAM and I wish him tons of high quality sleep; the awesome kind of sleep where you dream about hot sex and chocolate and free beer and piles of unmarked money that magically appear in your mailbox and jet-skis and ………
School is out for summer, bitches. Hang in there.
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