If you’re a parent, you probably have some experience with a pacifier. I know from friends that some kids can’t live without it, some are just bedtime suckers, and there’s everything in between.  My daughter, from what I hear, was one of the few that never wanted anything to do with it. And trust me, I tried. I remember one night at about 4am I was trying so desperately to shove that thing in her mouth to stop the crying. Not only would she not take it, every time she spit it out she would scream louder.  That was fun.

I know I’m lucky I didn’t have the problem some moms have where they have to wean their kids off the pacifier. I did however have another issue.  Wherever we would go, if Lily saw a kid with a pacifier, she will run up to them, grab it out of their mouth and throw it on the floor.  She literally couldn’t stand the sight of it.  It’s like she herself never embraced the idea of it, so she couldn’t for the life of her understand how anyone else would.  I guess if I really thought about it, I can relate in that when I see someone wearing a turtleneck, I just want to run up to them, rip it off and free them of the claustrophobic agony they must be enduring.  I don’t understand how people wear turtlenecks.  I know they can keep you warm in cold weather, but they would keep me warm in that I’d be sweating with anxiety as I felt myself being choked by a terribly aggressive cotton/polyester blend. In my mind turtlenecks are predators, and I steer clear of any and all kinds. Even the really expensive, soft, cashmere kind. Some might argue, material of that quality feels great on your neck, I still believe it to be an upscale chokehold.

Back to the pacifiers. So anywhere I would take Lily, I’d have to be on the lookout for a kid with a pacifier. While all moms keep their eyes peeled for anything sharp or breakable, I’m also scanning for binkys.  A bunch of us used to meet at the playground pretty often, and this one little boy Shane, probably the sweetest kid ever, always fell victim to Lily’s delinquency. Luckily his mom is the coolest and she saw the humor as opposed horror I felt seeing my kid, the binky bandit. It was right before she turned two, so not quite the terrible two’s, more like the mom needs lots of wine one’s. One of the best pieces of advice I ever got for raising a kid was, everything is a phase, so try not to get too upset about whatever it is. Thankfully the binky grabbing phase passed just like the ‘I want to wear my diaper over my pants otherwise I’ll scream for 20 minutes straight’ phase did.  If that phase lasted a day longer I would’ve ended up in a padded room.  Oh, and then there was that phase when she would throw every last piece of food I gave her on the floor. That phase almost landed me in jail.

Pacifiers, and while we’re at it, turtlenecks, you are the co-douchebags of the day.

I’ve come to realize there are 2 things all babies pretty much love. Boobs and bubbles. The boob thing obviously kicks in right away with the breastfeeding.  I did it for 6 months, I’m glad I did it, but was very happy to be done with it. And it was very clear the day it was time to be done.  One morning I got up, started to to breastfeed, and there it was, my daughter’s first tooth.  If nipples could talk mine would’ve said, ‘And…..that’s a wrap.’  Later in the day I was at work (I had gone back full time at that point) and was in the lactation room pumping while on a conference call. Now mind you, I worked with probably 75-80% men. So there were 6 of us already on the call and my male boss was about to dial in the client.  But first he said, ‘Hope, um, I’m sorry, but is there any way you can put us on mute?  We can hear that machine making noise and it might be sort of awkward if the client hears it.’  I thought, you mean more awkward than I feel right now that you’re calling attention to ‘that machine’ that’s aggressively sucking the milk out of my engorged breasts so I can feed my child?  Sure, no problem.  Looking back, I probably should’ve put them all on mute from the beginning, but I’m convinced that along with the milk, somehow my brain cells got sucked out as well. My pregnancy brain wasn’t all that bad.  My breastfeeding brain was horrible. Think of the dumbest person you know. I was even dumber.

Now onto the bubbles where today’s douchebag comes in. I went to multiple mommy and me classes, and no matter what the theme of the class, it always ended with the teacher filling the room with bubbles. And without fail, every kid loves it.  When you think about it, it’s amazing that soapy water can make kids so happy. You want to be like, shit, enjoy it now. Life is full disappointment, at some point bubbles just aren’t gonna do it unless you’re looking at them while you’re high out of your mind.  Sure, I want my daughter to have a positive outlook on life, but I also want her to be realistic. Like my issue with some of these Disney princesses. Listen, if you’re gonna sit around and wait for prince charming to show up on a white horse you’re gonna be waiting a long time.  If you can find a guy who doesn’t fart too much, has something to say other than ‘nice ass,’ and shows up in a white Honda from this decade, you’re doing ok.

But back to the bubbles.  Adam and I were taking Lily to the park, and on the way we stopped at Walgreens to get toothpaste. Is anyone else always out of toothpaste like we are?  It’s like there’s a great white shark living in my house and he too brushes his 300 teeth twice a day.  Anyway, while in Walgreens I saw they had bubbles, so I bought them and brought them to the park.  When I pulled them out, Lily immediately had a huge smile on her face.  I dipped the wand into the liquid and started to blow. Nothing. I tried it again. Still nothing. (I’ve found in most cases, if you’re blowing on something and nothing happens, something is very wrong) Anyway, the look of disappointment on Lily’s face was enough to fire me up. And they have the nerve to call these things, ‘Super Miracle Bubbles.’  The real miracle is they’re still in business. Granted they cost 99 cents so I didn’t expect a bubble-palooza, but I did expect some semblance of a bubble. I looked to see where they were made, and it said, made in China. Now I don’t want to stereotype, because I’m sure there are some things that are made very well in China. I for one am a huge fan of the dumpling and their idea to take rice and fry it is just genius. But whoever is responsible for making these ‘bubbles,’ please stop and maybe try your hand at a pork bun. Whoever you are, you are the douchebag of the day.

It was one of those days when I was in Walgreens and my daughter decided that every single mascara hanging in the make-up section would be better off on the floor. She’d blown through Revlon and was halfway through Cover Girl when I finally got a hold of her. That paired with the deep wedgie my underwear was giving me all day had me at the end of my rope. I resorted to bribery which I try to avoid, but I just didn’t care at that point. I told her if she behaves and doesn’t touch another thing until we leave the store I’d get her a toy. She was an angel the rest of the time and she left with some crappy motorized something, but she was really excited about it. Buying toys in Walgreens is like perusing some of the shittier dating websites. The selection sucks, you end up settling for something you wouldn’t normally want, you play with it once and never acknowledge it again.

When we got home she wanted to play with her crappy new toy immediately which was fine because then I could make dinner. My daughter is obsessed with cooking and always wants to “help.” She doesn’t get it from me because before I had a kid I literally had cooked one meal ever for an old boyfriend. I was trying to impress him, but ended up severely overcooking the chicken. I was so afraid of undercooking it and giving him salmonella, that it ended up, in his words, “drier than Betty White’s vagina.” He had quite the sense of humor, and in this case it quite literally killed both of our appetites so we just drank heavily instead. So I went to open the toy for Lily, and just as I saw her excitement build, I realized it didn’t come with a battery. And of course we’re not the type of people who have batteries lying around the house. You know those people who always have a spare roll of toilet paper in the bathroom ready to go? We’re not those people either. So now in addition to cooking, I’d have to deal with a cranky, now disappointed kid. And let’s not forget about about the deep wedgie that still hadn’t let up. Some toys do include batteries, why don’t they all? I’ll pay the extra money, just make my life easier please.

Needless to say, when I broke the news to Lily about not being able to play with the toy she was disappointed. But to my delight she said, it’s ok mommy, I’ll just play with something else right now. I was somewhat shocked, but mostly relieved. Those few moments here and there when your kids don’t act like assholes are magic. I know I can be really harsh, but for the record, my little asshole is by far the best thing that’s ever happened in my life. Ever.

Enough sap, back to business. I might’ve gotten off easy this time, but it could’ve gone the other way, and regardless, not including batteries in a motorized toy is moronic. Which means toy company, you are the douchebag of the day.

With that movie coming out this weekend, I was inspired to post about this particular douchebag. Now that I have a daughter, I understand how hard being a mom actually is.  We all love our kids and would do anything for them, but I find 1 major flaw in having kids.  You have to raise them.  If kids could raise themselves and we could just hug, kiss, and play a few of the less mind-numbing games with them, they’d be awesome.  Last night my daughter made me read her favorite book to her 11 times in a row.  Halfway through the 8th reading, I found myself plotting ways to kill the author. My best idea involved a sledgehammer, a garbage bag, and a trunk. Given the book’s Halloween theme it seemed to make the most sense.

Anyway, today’s douchebag was realized after a friend told me a story.  She was picking her son up from preschool, he fell down and started crying.  She picked him up to comfort him, which sounds pretty normal.  Well, one of the moms there said to her, “So you’re one of those moms who picks her kid up every time he cries.”  What??  If I was there I would’ve had to stop myself from saying, “So you’re one of those moms who needs to learn how to shut her fucking pie hole.”  First off, I would’ve done the same thing my friend did, secondly, like I said, being a mom is hard and I really try not to judge.  And if I am judging, I judge in the privacy of my own head.  I take my daughter to preschool and I often forget to bring her cup. Every time I worry that the other moms are thinking I’m trying to dehydrate my kid.  I swear, I’m not. I’m just forgetful, irresponsible, and extremely scatterbrained.  But hopefully I make up for it with my funny faces and ability to sound exactly like Fozzy Bear.

So, today’s douchebag of the day is “judgy judy” from my friend’s class.  A very wise person once told me, everyone’s got an opinion and an asshole.  It’s often best to keep both under wraps.

Unfortunately for my husband Adam, he’s going to be named the DB of the day more than anyone else. I personally don’t feel it’s even a dig on him, it’s just when you cohabitate with another human being, all their douchebaggery is right there for you to see, all the time. I’m sure he would label me the douchebag of the day at times, he just doesn’t have a blog about it so nobody will know. I win.

Adam travels a lot for work which is mostly annoying, but it does have its perks. He works on golf, so he’s gone a lot of weekends. It sucks for obvious reasons, but it’s good because on Sunday nights if I want to indulge in some guilty Keeping up with the Kardashian pleasure I don’t have to hear him telling me that my IQ is dropping 5 points with every word that comes out of Kylie Jenner’s over-inflated clown lips. Sure, I agree that if Kim Kardashian takes one more selfie she should be locked in a basement with no food, water, or botox, but that doesn’t mean I’m not curious to see just how big her ass can look in a pencil skirt. It’s not so much must see TV, as it is must see booTY.

One particular trip, Adam was in Hawaii for a tournament at one of the most beautiful golf courses in the world. It was a Saturday and my daughter Lily and I had just come in from taking Elsa for a walk in the stroller. She “needed some air.” I needed some wine. Lily went the bathroom to pee, and came out asking me to help her pull up her pants and underwear. In her defense, she was wearing these leggings that were definitely too tight. I’ve been meaning to clean out her closet for oh, I’d say 3 years. She’s 3. Just as I was about to pull them up, I heard my phone “ding.” Adam had texted me a photo which I quickly opened. The best way to describe the photo would be, the most quintessential postcard you would find of Hawaii. Clear sky, crystal blue ocean, and perfectly placed palm trees. Basically heaven on earth. He also texted that it was “current view.” It was beautiful, I was jealous. But I had to get back to the task at hand, pulling up Lily’s pants. I looked down, and much to my dismay, I saw a large, somewhat textured brown mark in her underwear. Now before you jump to conclusions, she hadn’t pooped in her pants. She pooped earlier in the potty, it was the wiping part that was clearly a fail. Lily was late to start pooping on the potty, but once she did, she demanded privacy which I completely understand and respect. She likes to do everything herself, which is fine except the fact that she puts less effort into wiping her butt than Larry King did trying to make all 8 of his marriages work. So as I’m staring down at the poo marked panties, I thought back to Adam’s “current view” he had just sent me. Yup, I sure did. I reached for my phone, snapped a few pics, decided which angle was the most disturbing, and sent it off with the same caption, “current view.”

About 10 minutes later I heard back from Adam. The text just said, “I got you a nice gift.” He does always bring me back stuff from places he goes. He really stepped it up this time and brought me back a really nice bracelet. Sure that provided some redemption, but working at a golf course in Hawaii while I wipe ass in Orlando, I still deemed him the douchebag of the day.