Rapunzel ran around the pool on her birthday and yelled "Fucking putz!" three times.

I pretended to fold the towels on the other side of the pool and hid my face because I was TOTALLY embarassed and kind of amused, too.

I'm not a good parent, I'm selfish.

The man in my life said something interesting the other day. Well, before I get into that, I've decided he needs a nickname on this blog to protect the innocent or guilty or whatever. I'll call him The Juggalo because, well, he really likes Insane Clown Posse and I think that's funny.

Okay, so The Juggalo looked at me the other day and essentially commented that he was impressed with my dedication to raising the kid (oh, she needs a nickname too. Rapunzel. Because she is OBSESSED with that stupid Tangled movie). I kind of laughed awkwardly. While it's nice to be complimented for my "parenting prowess", I'd just like to mention that its not exactly true.

Yes, I'm looking out for her well-being and yes, I love her very much, but if I'm trying to teach her something, it's usually out of pure selfishness. I'm not some great, selfless parent. I just don't want to live with a tiny asshole.

Kids are assholes. They're rude beyond belief. Thoughtless, incredibly self-centered, constantly interrupting, messy and kind of stinky. Left to their own devices, most kids are going to err on the side of asshole. I don't much care to spend my time with a tiny asshole. So I teach her to not interrupt, to chew with her mouth closed and PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD swallow her food before opening up to say something. I teach her to ask before she climbs all over me because NO ONE likes having a large sticky toddler using their body as a jungle gym.

The Juggalo laughed until he realized I was telling the truth. My child raising style is all.about.me. If I don't want to deal with something, I'll teach Rapunzel not to do it. The end. I understand that it's making her a better person and more fit to be a part of society and whatever, but that barely registers on my radar when I realized that I need to teach her something.

Case in point: I don't care much if other people look at me in Target when my kid decides to have an earth-shaking tantrum. I smile and wave as they stare, I kid you not. However, I don't much enjoy dealing with big tantrums myself, so THAT's why I'm teaching her to manage her stress better. It's not for your benefit and maybe not even for hers, it's for mine.

I'm sure she'll appreciate it when she's not an asshole adult, though, that's for sure.

Holy Shizz, I'm an adult

I was literally just sitting here at work, gnawing on a Starburst,
when I realized it. I done growed up. I don't know when exactly this
happened, but suddenly I spend the majority of my time doing adult
things (get your mind out of the gutter, I mean this in the most
non-dirty way possible. Okay. A little dirty. Whatever. I'm an adult).

For instance, I have a full time job. I work as a police dispatcher
(hence the name of this here blog, clever, eh?). Before that, I worked
for 3 years as a police officer. I actually had 2 part time cop jobs
and a 3rd job writing parking tickets. So, I worked all the time but
had NO benefits. Now, I work slightly less and I have benefits. I'm
particularly pleased with the fact that they pay me on holidays,
regardless of whether I'm at work or not. Score! But yes, having a
full time job, with insurance and a retirement plan and all that jazz
really makes me feel like a functional adult.

I'm like a step-mom type lady. Being responsible for a tiny human?
Definitely adult behavior. She comes to me for band-aids and kisses
when she falls down. Which happens a lot. Toddlers are crazy-clumsy.
But the fact that I'm the go-to band-aid guy? I must totally be a
respectable adult.

I'm probably getting married soon. We're planning a wedding/elopement
thing in Las Vegas for January 13, 2012 (yes, that's a Friday the
13th. That's the point). Adults get married. I feel particularly adult
because the guy I'm gonna marry has already been married once. I don't
know why, but I feel like I get extra grown up points for that. Okay,
he hasn't proposed yet, but we tend to do things backwards so it's
okay...for now.

I do chores. I mean, instead of screwing around doing fuck-all when I
come home from work. I clean. Laundry. Vacuum. Scrub something. Cook
dinner. My mom does that, and she's an adult for sure, so if I'm doing
what she does, I must be one too.

I don't know why I didn't feel too grown up until now. I mean, I was a
cop! They don't give kids guns and tell them to keep other people
safe. But it's now, now that I'm 26 and caring for a family. Now I
feel mature. Clueless, but mature. I have no idea what I'm doing half
of the time, but I think I'm pretending to be a respectable grown up
lady pretty well. And that's what all the other grown ups do, I think,
which just cements the fact that I am, truly, an adult.

Welcome to Dispatching the Storm!

The basic point of this blog is to give me an outlet to vent and laugh as I attempt to behave like a decent stepmom. I live with my boyfriend and his 3 year old daughter. Someday soon we'll be getting married. This is my first experience being anything even remotely parental...and I've gotta say...it's entertaining as hell.

I really loved reading "mommy blogs", and I even tried to have a sunshine and kittens style mommy blog. But that's not me. Yes, I feel blessed and all overwhelmed with love and whatnot...but it ain't sunbeams all the time. Sometimes I look at the snot-faced, screaming banshee that is my future step-daughter, and I'm just overcome with the urge to laugh. Or scream right along with her. And I know I'm not alone!

I kept asking other moms if they have the same feelings as I do...and many do. Parenthood is funny as fuck, folks. Let's enjoy the ride together.