there's a double standard in parenting. who's shocked? anyone?
i'm sure the double standard you're thinking of is not the one i'm going to talk about, which leads me to this conclusion: parenting should never, ever work, yet somehow we keep managing to make it happen, and in some instances, make it work.
tim gunn would be a great dad. "well daddy, i was thinking about making a model of planet earth out of lead, mercury, and asbestos as a commentary on our society's lack of vision and concern for future generations." "ok, i'm a little concerned that this is going to be tasteless. these materials, if not handled properly, could be a total disaster. your sketch is promising, and i love the color palette, but it's going to take a lot of precision. make it work."
back to the double standard. dads are almost invariably the parental unit to introduce kids to soda, doritos, pixie sticks, and the host of other terrible foods and drinks that result in children who never sleep and mothers who turn gray by the age of 28. and when dads do these things, we giggle and roll our eyes and say things like "father-son/daughter bonding" or "aw, a dad's rite of passage" or "YOU'RE GOING TO BE THE ONE WHO STAYS UP WITH JACK WHEN HE'S BOUNCING OFF THE WALLS AT 2 AM!!!!!!!"
but when you see a mom giving her child a sip of her diet pepsi, your jaw drops. "omg becky, did you see that? doesn't she know what's in sodas!? i bet her kid has no teeth from bottle rot and she probably does heroine in their living room. oh, and they're on welfare and she's pregnant right now. with twins from two different men. we'll see her on maury in a year."
next on the agenda!
i am white. my husband is white. i'm not talking ethnicity. i would say caucasian in that instance, to be PC. not the computer. i'm a mac. just wanted to clarify that.
when i say we are white i am almost exclusively talking about our dance moves. my husband will tell you that his wrestling background formed him into a smooth operator with excellent hip control, thus forming him into an exceptional dancer.
do not listen to him. he is a very good looking, delusional liar.
vanilla ice should be a hero for people like me. first of all, his stage name alone represents everything we stand for. it sort of sounds hard, but when you really look at it, it doesn't make any sense. vanilla ice. ok, white=vanilla. ice=cold. so he's a tall iced latte no whip? or is he gelato?
for the record, i've never heard a news report stating that both the driver and passengers of a drive-by were sipping starbucks or enjoying a creamy baskin robbins creation while gunning down some bloods who were on the wrong side of town.
he couldn't even come up with his own beat. and he found a legal way to get away with it. remember the interview? "well, ours is dumdumdumdadadumdum-dum-dumdumdumdadadumdum, theirs is dumdumdumdadadumdum-dumdumdumdadadumdum. it's the 'dum'".
you're right vanilly (that's his hood name), it is in the dum(b).
people like me act tough. we want the outside world to think we pose some kind of threat, that we could beat down anyone who messed with us. the truth of the matter is that we would probably just get a lawyer to bury you in paperwork.
i've only held a gun once, and i cried. however, i shot santa right between the eyes when i finally conjured up the courage to pull the trigger. i still have nightmares.
ready for the culmination?
here is my response to the daddy double standard, a result of my horrible whiteness, and why you should never be scared of me or anyone in my family.
tim gun would be so proud.
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