Parenting advice from the Duchess
Where’s Supernanny when you need her?
While the Duchess sang the second verse of the song, she kept tossing the baby violently up and down, and the poor little thing howled so, that Alice could hardly hear the words:-
`I speak severely to my boy,
I beat him when he sneezes;
For he can thoroughly enjoy
The pepper when he pleases!’
-Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland
What a lovely nursery rhyme! Okay, so the Duchess would not be considered parent-of-the-year material. In fact, the whole shaken baby thing would definitely get her a day in court, unless the child were to turn into a pig, in which case she’d only have to worry about PETA.
But what makes the “perfect” parent? Obviously we don’t want to beat children for sneezing – not when there are so many other reasons to smack them. Not saying that I do, of course, but I doubt there’s a real parent on earth who hasn’t thought of it at least once. This is why television is such a lifesaver. Without the occasional use of the boob tube babysitter, I bet there’d be a lot more sneezing beatings.
But of course you’ll get the parents who know more than you do. Nevermind that thus far, you’ve managed to not kill your kids, a very awesome success in itself, these people are certain they are doing it better than you are. Their precious child never had a bottle, never watched a second of T.V., never threw tantrums, never ate anything but organic homemade food, never had a second of unstructured time. They did learn to speak, crawl, and walk earlier than other babies. Also, their children prefer the taste of spinach over chocolate, and eat it all the time, and are involved in every type of sport, and also make straight As. And then, of course, they wonder – what do YOU do?
I am a slacker mom. I used to be embarrassed about this, especially around the Stepford wife crowd, found anywhere, but especially known to congregate in churches. But now I look at my kids, and I realize that they’re not perfect, but they’re happy most of the time. They weren’t breastfed for years, but they have fewer allergies than their breastfed peers. They didn’t always walk and crawl and talk right when the book said they should, but my eldest hummed “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” to herself at less than a year.
Her little sister was more the scientist type than the artistic – at about 17 months she discovered through personal experimentation that super glue was, in fact, not a poisonous substance. And this was after quite a few hours of the dreaded Clifford the Big Red Dog, Teletubbies, and Big, Big World, a show that would make the staunchest environmentalist want to burn down a rain forest. But they did learn from these shows, and as far as I can tell, haven’t lost brain cells because of it. I might need to tone down the Disney channel, though, because I’m fairly sure I’ve lost some from it merely by secondhand exposure.
Sometimes I get mad at my kids and shout at them. Sometimes I’m too tired to play. Sometimes I have to GET OUT before I go completely insane. They aren’t in any structured activities save church and Girl Scouts. But thus far they haven’t written a tell-all book about me. And my eldest even wrote an essay praising my good qualities, including showing them vidoes on Youtube. Which might have made the teacher wonder. But, ah well. When I’m feeling down, I remember that at least I don’t beat them for sneezing. So, with any luck, they won’t grow up to be pigs after all.
50 SoG Recap #8: Whackings and Smackings for Ana
Chapter 15 starts off with more of the witty dialogue we’ve come to expect from Christian and Ana. Christian brings the booze.
“Nothing beats a good Bollinger.” “Interesting choice of words,” I comment dryly.
He grins, “Oh, I like your ready wit, Anastasia.”
Yeah, it’s fun to joke about domestic violence. Christian tells Ana not to think, which shouldn’t be a problem, but Ana’s subconscious says “You can pretend to be a car, like his other possessions.” Ooh, good one, subconscious! Ana naturally ignores that voice as she uses what mental faculties she has to try to keep Christian happy so he won’t punish her.
And there’s some blah conversation and Ana says she has an interview and Christian is pissed she didn’t tell him and wants to know where and when and she’s afraid he might want to use his influence to control her career. Nah, not Christian. Then he asks if she’s eaten and she rolls her eyes because even Ana is bored with this crap and Christian gets pissy and warns her that he will beat her if she does it again. And she thinks that’s kind of hot. My head hurts.
They discuss all the sex acts they’re willing to do and somehow make this boring and butt plugs is mentioned and Ana’s inner goddess “bounces up and down like a small child waiting for ice cream.” A small child that is incredibly horny. I just . . . nevermind. Sadly I find the voices in her head more interesting than Ana herself.
After all the talk of spanking, Christian says oh maybe one night a week he could try to act like a human being while still being a controlling abusive asshole on the weekends. And Ana is so excited – oh yay I am truly changing him with my love! And then he lays on a condition for this gracious gesture. She has to accept his graduation gift. You will never guess what it is!
It’s a brand new carrrrrr, ladies and gentlemen! Exactly what she asked him not to buy for her! But that’s not all, he also insists on his henchman taking her old, beloved car and trashing it. Ana actually gets angry for a moment, and then she remembers that oh no poor widdle Christian was once mistreated as a child and it is all okay! But not with Christian, who drags her into her room angrily and Ana pleads in a whisper, “Please don’t be angry with me” and “You scare me when you’re angry.” And this just, there’s no way to make that funny. Christian you’re a freaking asshole and I hope you go to prison and someone uses buttplugs on you, Mr. Romantic Lead women are crazy about. Why? Why, ladies? Because he’s handsome? So was Scott Peterson. You know, the guy who murdered his wife and unborn baby? Who is now in prison? And who is still receiving love letters from women. This is a guy who was CONVICTED of murder and I just don’t even . . . I don’t . . .
Cough, uh, where was I? Anyway, there’s another sex scene, and Christian lets Ana be on top and “in charge” and Ana is all into that even though she was terrified of him seconds ago. Because men are not the only ones who think with their reproductive organs. “Holy Moses, he’s all mine to play with, and suddenly it’s Christmas,” Ana thinks. Yes, Ana, he’s yours. Get the flogger.
Instead she gives him another blowjob. And there’s more mention of the “foil packets” which are apparently condoms in England? They put them in foil, like potato chips? I need to ask my British friend about this one. And the green man, that’s still bugging me. The sex scene goes on and on and on and I am so bored. End chapter.
Chapter Sixteen! Christian explains he is “fifty shades of fucked up” and we have a title, everyone! In fact, that really should have been the actual full title of this book, because this book is truly fucked up. Christian boasts that he has given Ana six orgasms and they all belong to him. Ana remembers that she had an orgasm in her dream uh oh there was one he didn’t give her though it was a dream about him should she tell him? So she does. And throws her arm over her eyes. You know, in case he freaks and hits her. But Christian likes that she had a dream involving him flogging her, so it’s okay.
Since there is no limit to Asshat’s intrusiveness, he asks when her next period is due because he doesn’t like wearing condoms. And oh yes, as the woman she should really think of contraception, but no biggie, he has his own obgyn he can get to make house calls at a moment’s notice because . . . I just . . . and Ana asks to have her very first vaginal exam at his place, because then, squeal, she will get to be with Christian. And Christian has to go and Ana wants him to stay and then she teases him that she could stretch out this whole contract discussion and he informs her that he would just kidnap her and hold her hostage at his house and it “could get really ugly.” And Ana thinks, “Jeez this is hot.” I’m really . . . who do I root for here? I hate them both. So much.
And then Ana rolls her eyes at him again and oh oh mad Christian and he tells her he’s going to spank her and Ana and her subconscious are frightened but inner goddess pleads “do it” because inner goddess, remember, is a crazy bitch. And Christian goes into his twisted psycho Supernanny form and well, I’ll just show you:
“Why am I doing this, Anastasia?” he asks. “Because I rolled my eyes at you,” I can barely speak. “Do you think that’s polite?” “No.” “Will you do it again?” “No.” “I will spank you each time you do it, do you understand?”
And then come the spankings. Hard slaps that cause her to cry out in pain. In between, he fondles her so that he can get some sexual abuse in with the physical – saves time that way. But it’s no biggie, cause he only hits her EIGHTEEN TIMES. And Christian says, so romantically, “No one to hear you, baby, just me.”
I’m screaming my safe word. The book ignores me.
He then rapes her, and Ana naturally orgasms. When it’s over Christian says, “Welcome to my world.” No thanks, psycho. He asks if she’s “okay”. Yeah, no, you bastard, you just hit her EIGHTEEN TIMES she’s not okay. But Ana says she’s okay and Christian rubs baby oil on her butt and leaves.
She talks to her mom, and breaks down in tears, and Mom says come to Georgia and Ana thinks, sure, she can go there and get some space. Christian ought to be fine with that. Kate sees that she is crying and is upset and advises Ana to tell him to “take a hike”. Yeah, Ana, listen to Kate! And Ana thinks, oh, it’s so black and white to her and it’s really a gray area. No. No it is not you moron. Sit down and think about it. Oh, WAIT you can’t. She lies to Kate that she hurt herself falling on her butt. I guess that beats I ran into a doorknob or fell down the stairs.
As usual, the answer is alcohol. They drink. And Ana gets in another email match about her car and who will dispose of it and guess who wins? Ana writes, oh wow, that she doesn’t like him so much, but not because he beat her, because he didn’t stay and cuddle with her afterwards. She hits send and ponders Christian and why he is an asshole and then we hear Kate and Christian arguing. Kate tries to keep Christian from coming inside – you know, like a real protective friend. But Ana lets him stay, because she has both the brainpower and self-esteem of a one-celled amoeba.
She asks if he’ll hit her again. He says, “Not tonight.” Oh, how reassuring! There’s some more blah talk about how Christian “needs” to be in charge cause he’s an asshole and then they cuddle together and as the chapter ends Ana thinks:
“Holy cow. Christian Grey is sleeping with me, and in the comfort and solace of his arms, I drift into a peaceful sleep.”(Ch16 p222)
I officially nominate Ana for the Darwin awards.
Parenting advice from the Duchess
Where’s Supernanny when you need her?
While the Duchess sang the second verse of the song, she kept tossing the baby violently up and down, and the poor little thing howled so, that Alice could hardly hear the words:-
`I speak severely to my boy,
I beat him when he sneezes;
For he can thoroughly enjoy
The pepper when he pleases!’
-Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland
What a lovely nursery rhyme! Okay, so the Duchess would not be considered parent-of-the-year material. In fact, the whole shaken baby thing would definitely get her a day in court, unless the child were to turn into a pig, in which case she’d only have to worry about PETA.
But what makes the “perfect” parent? Obviously we don’t want to beat children for sneezing – not when there are so many other reasons to smack them. Not saying that I do, of course, but I doubt there’s a real parent on earth who hasn’t thought of it at least once. This is why television is such a lifesaver. Without the occasional use of the boob tube babysitter, I bet there’d be a lot more sneezing beatings.
But of course you’ll get the parents who know more than you do. Nevermind that thus far, you’ve managed to not kill your kids, a very awesome success in itself, these people are certain they are doing it better than you are. Their precious child never had a bottle, never watched a second of T.V., never threw tantrums, never ate anything but organic homemade food, never had a second of unstructured time. They did learn to speak, crawl, and walk earlier than other babies. Also, their children prefer the taste of spinach over chocolate, and eat it all the time, and are involved in every type of sport, and also make straight As. And then, of course, they wonder – what do YOU do?
I am a slacker mom. I used to be embarrassed about this, especially around the Stepford wife crowd, found anywhere, but especially known to congregate in churches. But now I look at my kids, and I realize that they’re not perfect, but they’re happy most of the time. They weren’t breastfed for years, but they have fewer allergies than their breastfed peers. They didn’t always walk and crawl and talk right when the book said they should, but my eldest hummed “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” to herself at less than a year.
Her little sister was more the scientist type than the artistic – at about 17 months she discovered through personal experimentation that super glue was, in fact, not a poisonous substance. And this was after quite a few hours of the dreaded Clifford the Big Red Dog, Teletubbies, and Big, Big World, a show that would make the staunchest environmentalist want to burn down a rain forest. But they did learn from these shows, and as far as I can tell, haven’t lost brain cells because of it. I might need to tone down the Disney channel, though, because I’m fairly sure I’ve lost some from it merely by secondhand exposure.
Sometimes I get mad at my kids and shout at them. Sometimes I’m too tired to play. Sometimes I have to GET OUT before I go completely insane. They aren’t in any structured activities save church and Girl Scouts. But thus far they haven’t written a tell-all book about me. And my eldest even wrote an essay praising my good qualities, including showing them vidoes on Youtube. Which might have made the teacher wonder. But, ah well. When I’m feeling down, I remember that at least I don’t beat them for sneezing. So, with any luck, they won’t grow up to be pigs after all.
aliceatwonderland 