Being a parent is a full time job. You hear that all the time. What you don't hear is that as an employee of one of the crappiest companies in existence (Don't get me started on salary and working conditions) you never really know how you're doing. It's not like the corporate world where you get monthly reviews. You get your performance review at random unexpected moments...like finding out your daughter is the headliner at a strip club (Make that money, Diamond! Don't let it make you!).
If you're a shitty parent then you don't really care, but if you're a decent one then you probably are giving it your all and looking for telltale signs. I had the (pleasure?) of watching a little kid lick the side of the trashcan at the bus stop while his mom explained to another concerned onlooker that she was wasn't a germaphobe. Compared to her, I'd say that gives me an Exceeds Expectations on my quarterly review.
For self-esteem purposes, I'd venture to say that I'm actually an Outstanding parent. If this were a sport, I would've been a first round draft pick. Other parents would put posters of me up on their walls. Maybe I'd even have endorsement deals: "The Ordale J Allen 'ass-whipping' belt is the only belt to have five different removable grips and a quick release latch for on the go disciplining."
Anyway, for every pro athlete, there's always someone better. Even Jordan had someone he looked up to. So who's your favorite parent's favorite parent? A good friend of mine who will only allow me to refer to her as D.B. is my inspiration. If I was a first round draft pick, she walked on right after high school. You already know how my daughter is: Sleeps two hours a night, beats me in my sleep and has me wrapped around her finger.
Watching D.B. with my daughter is like watching Bobby Flay come into my kitchen and turn a pack of Ramen Noodles and a hot dog into a Fettucini Bolognese. We stayed with her this past weekend and not only did my daughter embrace her, she acted like we were foster parents bringing her back. Little stuff like, "Go sit back down at the table and eat" was met with compliance. No whining, no crying, no pulling out a blade and threatening to stab D.B. She just did it.
The real kicker was when we decided to try something new...let her babysit. We started putting on our coats and heading for the door. "Goodbye, we'll see you later!" She looked up for all of a second and went back to playing. We came back and found out that she went to bed at 7:30PM...and slept for 13 hours! What!? The last time my daughter went to sleep before 8:00 was in the hospital the day she was born. Even then she woke up a few hours later.
I tip my hat, bow, curtsy, and kneel before Zod. If this little crappy company that we all work for has any kind of a CEO award then she deserves it. I should've known, though. Her kids will be studied by science one day. I once watched her then-six and seven year olds suggest that they play rock, paper, scissors in order to decide which Wii game to play. After winning, the seven year old immediately volunteered to play for only ten minutes so that the six year old could get a chance. No ninja kicking, no battle royale. Just compromise.
So to sum things up, I'm doing better than the lady who lets her kid lick the trash can, but I'm below the woman whose kids entertain themselves in the evening by having spelling bees with each other. You know what...I'm just gonna call it even.
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