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Let's Panic: The Book!

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How to Endure and Possibly Triumph Over the Adorable Tyrant
who Will Ruin Your Body, Destroy Your Life, Liquefy Your Brain,
and Finally Turn You
into a Worthwhile
Human Being.

Written by Alice Bradley and Eden Kennedy

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I'm In...

Sleep Is
For The Weak

Chicago Review Press

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Let's Panic

The site that inspired the book!

At LET'S PANIC ABOUT BABIES, Eden Kennedy and I share our hard-won wisdom and tell you exactly what to think and feel and do, whether you're about to have a baby or already did and don't know what to do with it. → 

« It can now be revealed. | Main | I seem to be rather angry these days. »

More about what pisses me off.

Hi! You know what? I sure am annoyed lately! I was just scribbling down some thoughts for Finslippy, and, well, oh dear:

1. Drivers who reluctantly slow down at stop signs and give the pedestrian a testy little wave, as if to say, “I am doing you an enormous favor. Now scurry along before I change my mind and mow you down.” There needs to be a new obscene hand gesture that indicates, “Hey, jackass, guess what? I don’t need your permission. Stop signs aren’t optional so don’t act like you’re so very generous and I should be grateful. And you’re a jackass. Jackass.” I must begin work on this gesture immediately. To the laboratory!

2. The family members who sometimes behave as if they are not fully aware that Henry knows what words mean. They believe, for instance, that as long as they didn’t use the word B-U-G-S to refer to the B-U-G-S that were invading the basement when we arrived for a visit—as my son, you see, has a crippling fear of the B-U-G-S—he would not pick up on something being amiss even when they came tearing ass up from the basement hissing “OH MY GOD THEY’RE EVERYWHERE THEY’RE ALL OVER HIS TOYS.” And when they’re whispering updates to me on the TERROR FROM BELOW while Henry looks up from his Matchbox cars in wide-eyed horror, it should come as no surprise that the remaining hours of our visit are spent with 40 pounds of boy adhered to me via the Four-Pointed Ninja Monkey Vise Grip around my torso and neck.

3. Dear husband: what do you want from me when you shout from the kitchen, “Jesus, what did you clean with this sponge?” Is there some answer I can give you that would be satisfactory? Would you like to hear that I was exfoliating my cleavage? Or do you imagine that I store a mental tally of all the items I have scrubbed clean, so that hours later I can sit back and enjoy the memories? What a thrilling moment, when I finally rid the casserole dish of those baked-on lasagna bits. Ah, life. Anyway, could you not simply toss the dirty sponge and retrieve a clean one from our under-sink bounty of unused sponges? Should I scamper to your side and find you an acceptable sponge as you watch in manly approval?

4. People who refer to their husbands as “Hubs” or the “The Hubster.” All I can say about this is: no. That’s all. Just: no. I know some of you do it. And I like you! I do! But no. You must stop. Do you hear me? No!

To those readers new to Finslippy, I’m not normally this peeved. Truly. Some days I am positively ebullient. But lately, whew, so negative! I’m sure I’ll perk up one of these days, perhaps when everyone begins to behave exactly as I feel they should.

On a possibly related note, my son has been cursing lately. I don’t believe he’s cursing for effect, as he doesn’t check us for a reaction—as he might do before he, say, brains another child with a dump truck. For example: the other day he made himself comfortable on the couch—raisins? Check. Sippy cup? Check— and called out: “Turn on the TV.” Before I could respond, he repeated, “Turn on the damn TV, please.” Well! And then yesterday, as he pulled an oversized book from the shelf, he exclaimed, “Wow—this is a big fucking book!”

I tried my best not to laugh, but I did anyway. Luckily he didn’t notice, as he was hidden behind the big fucking book.

Reader Comments (104)

When my son was 4, were going somewhere with my mom. Mom took a curve a little fast and a voice came from the back seat "Are we going to be fucking late?" I was embarrassed, but mom almost ran off the road laughing.
June 18, 2005 | Unregistered CommenterBob
Thanks for the laugh! It reminded me of the time when my son, now 23, was around 3 and was at the dinner table causing a commotion. I told him he couldn't have something, so he got down and sat on the floor and started to whine. I ignored him and continued talking to his father, whereby my son them proclaimed me to be a "shitty old bitch". It cracked me up but I didn't miss a beat and put him in his time out chair, which surprisingly enough he stayed in. We laugh about it to this day. I tried to be careful around my kids when they were little, but the girl next door and her husband swore like sailors, so I finally gave up. I'm not saying I didn't contribute to his newfound language abilities, but I don't recall ever calling anyone a shitty old bitch. That is, until he was older and we make jokes about it all the time.
June 19, 2005 | Unregistered CommenterStorm
Hello there - new reader and commenter; bring on the spleen! Makes for very amusing reading.

June 19, 2005 | Unregistered CommenterKW
I love you, I love you, I love you! Thanks for the laugh.
June 19, 2005 | Unregistered CommenterShelly
Wonderful post as always. And I'll add a "fuckin' eh" here just for effect.
June 19, 2005 | Unregistered CommenterTroy
HILARIOUS! Ow. My cheeks hurt.

We (my H-U-S-B-A-N-D and I) are trying to convince ourselves that our 17-month-old is hollering "SIT!" out of her stroller for ten straight blocks. You know, she sees dogs, they must sit...

Yeah. I know. It's really not "sit."
June 19, 2005 | Unregistered Commentermadgelove
This is my Mother's favorite "Carissa Cursing" story:

My Mom worked as a waitress when I was a kid, I used to sit at the front counter by the cash register and consume large amounts of chicken noodle soup while being entertained by her boss, co-workers, friends, and whatever strangers felt like trying to make me giggle or give me candy while she did her job.

One day (when I was three) while at my perch I was telling my Mom of the horrors of preschool....

"Today Mom when the whole class was outside I was in the sandbox with Matt and we were building a castle and Matt said 'Give me your shovel' Mom, there was ANOTHER shovel Matt could've had that one" By this time a little crowd of people paying for their meals has gatherd and are listening to a cute tyke ramble on ... "Mom, I am supposed to share .. I know. But well, fuck Mom! I didn't want to!"

There's an uncomfortable shuffle in the crowd and my Mom starts laughing like crazy while trying to do her duty as a parent and tell me that word is inappropriate.
June 19, 2005 | Unregistered Commentercarissa
My daughter once asked her grandma "are you fucking coming over or what". That was fun.

And what is with men? My husband will ask me to get him anything he could possibly do just so he doesnt have to, even if he is closer to it than I am. Damn lazy men.
So very very funny.

I used to fantasize about kicking out the headlights of cars that stopped in the crosswalk, especially when I was wearing big work boots. I shoulda done it, just once.
June 20, 2005 | Unregistered CommenterErin
That's hysterical. My 2yo used the F-Work in context the other day, I was so proud. When my 6yo was a toddler we were shopping in Victoria's Secret. At the cash register she blurted, "Oh shit, I forgot my panties!" and waddled off to find them. The look on the sales girl's face was priceless ;) I have the hardest time not laughing in front of the kiddos too.
June 20, 2005 | Unregistered CommenterStacey
Funny stuff you got going on here! In my family we have a famous swearing-kid story:

My cousin was about two and wanted to go somewhere with our uncles David and Jim. The wouldn't let her so she stood on the front porch and yelled out to them, hands on hips and head bobbing, "Well futch you David and futch you Jim!"
June 20, 2005 | Unregistered CommenterJenMilo
Okay kid swearing story.Mallory was just over 2 and messed with our cat all the time. We told her repeatedly not to and warned her that if she kept it up he would hurt her.

One day I walked in and she was crying. "What happened?" I asked. She said "the cat bit me." I said "Why?" She said, "I was fucking with him."
June 20, 2005 | Unregistered CommenterLisa V
I like to refer to my husband as "my ex-boyfriend."

Very funny post. Especially the cleavage scrubbing. Although i hate to say it, I am usually the sponge-interrogator in my house. My sister actually embroidered a dish towel for me with birds and hearts and a banner that says "Use this on the floor and I will f*cking kill you."
June 20, 2005 | Unregistered CommenterLetterB
I used to like the Sarcastic Journalist, I still do, even though I don't read her anymore. When I read this post, I clicked inmediatly at the comments, because I knew there would be one from her. I was right. Anyway, I must say that I think she has a stick up her ass. People can not-like what we do and it's not personal, no need to get angry. I'm sure that if she reads this, she will insult me as well, but I really don't mean to offend her, it's just something I think after reading her blog, I might be wrong. Also, I think the stick is not her fault. Sorry :)
June 20, 2005 | Unregistered CommenterSamanta
What a coincidence... perhaps there is a planetary alignment... or imbalance... or convergence... or a contagion or something. I've been annoyed a lot lately, too. Other people seem to be annoyed. Quick, somebody call the CDC! Is it an epidemic? And more importantly, is there a vaccine?

On an episode of Friends, Joey yelled "Get out of the way, jackass!" at a Coast Guard patrol. This was an inspiring bit of acting. What made this line so great was the emphasis... it was on the word "way." "Get out of the WAY, jackass!" I use this phrase frequently. I find that it is so fun to yell this, it actually dimishes my annoyance at what- or whoever was in the way.

Oh yeah, and my 3 y/o has been known to swear, too. It seems I don't need to worry about that, though since he's clearly not in any kind of minority in this respect.

But, Alice, I can relate to the 40 lbs. of boy clamped tightly to your upper torso. That is how much mine weighs as well. He doesn't freak out about B-U-G-S... but he reacts pretty much the same way to heights.
June 20, 2005 | Unregistered CommenterTitanKT
Samanta, she's joking. We're all friends, here. Shhh, now. It will all be okay.
June 21, 2005 | Unregistered Commenteralice
Maybe I could get my husband to pick up a sponge if I told hi I exfoliated my cleavage with it. Wait. I would need cleavage for that. Damn.
June 21, 2005 | Unregistered Commentercgarrett
One of the funniest things I've read in a while.

As a wee tot I learned all of my blue language riding in the car with dad. After testing one or two out, I was informed that these were "Daddy words", and I was not to use them. One word he didn't use tho, was the F-bomb - I learned THAT one from the 4 year old who lived across the street from my grandmother. Since it hadn't received daddy word classification, I had NO idea it was a bad word...until one night I announced from the back of the car "I don't want to go to the fucking grocers". The daddy word list was swiftly amended, and I didn't use it around my parents for another 15-20 years. Now at the ripe age of 35 I have a mouth like a trucker, and my mother just sighs and remarks "you *are* your fathers daughter".

June 21, 2005 | Unregistered CommenterMiss Lis
I was joking too. Kind of.
June 21, 2005 | Unregistered CommenterSamanta
This is the first time I've visited, and this was a great first read...will definitely have to come back.

My boys don't curse...yet? I like to think my language is tame when they're around, but then again, when driving, I am not myself;>

My husband is currently IFKAMH (Idiot Formerly Known as My Husband), but that is for specific reasons that are not endearing.
June 21, 2005 | Unregistered Commentercelebrate woo-woo
ever since my husband read this, he refers to every book as "that big fucking book". i am no longer concerned about my kid swearing.
June 21, 2005 | Unregistered CommenterjenB
Hey! I do that little wave thing, but it just means, "Hello, good pedestrian. I do indeed see you and will try not to run over you. Because we all share the road. And isn't sharing nice?" I'm not granting any favors. Maybe you were having a bad day, but sheesh.
June 21, 2005 | Unregistered Commenterdonkeyballs
My turn, my turn...

I clearly remember being 6 years old and buzzing my mother from outside to be let into our apartment (Yes, my mother, who was sweatily cleaning the kitchen floor and who became more mean and vulgar in her language during cleaning time then any time spent stuck in rush hour traffic). She finally answered with a "I told you to STAY outside for a while! I'm trying to clean, what do you WANT?" Well, her outburst made me a little angry and I haughtily replied "I HAVE to take a piss MOM!" No response...she just buzzed the door. - That walk up to the apartment felt like I was on my final walk down death row! As for my parenting, with pride I can say my kids are perfectly content saying piss, shit, fuck, etc. as their hearts desire.

Also, I bought my 2 year old nephew a dump truck for Christmas that was remote controlled. I hoped so much that he would like it. One of the very many benefits of this truck was that while reversing a construction worker like voice came on and said "Back the truck up!"

Well, imagine my extreme pleasure at the fact that when he reversed the truck and heard the worker's voice his eyes lit up and a huge smile came across his face. I said "Isn't that neat, it talks! What did he say?" and innocent, smiling toddler said, with eyes all aglow..."Shut the FUCK Up"

Definitely a kodak momment!

June 22, 2005 | Unregistered CommenterDiana
I had to stop reading this post and comments, I was stuck in the laugh/cry loop and couldn't stop doing either. Thanks for some much needed hilarity!
June 22, 2005 | Unregistered Commenterstewgad
ahhh stick up my ass. Thanks. It's called sarcasam. Get over yourself.
June 23, 2005 | Unregistered CommenterSarcastic Journalist

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