I Want My Epidural Back

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Book: I Want My Epidural Back by Karen Alpert Read Free Book Online
Authors: Karen Alpert
margaritas and actually finish complete sentences for a change. And then it’s time for dinner.
    Yummmmm, it looks sooooo deeelicious, but it’ll be at least twenty minutes before the moms get to eat anything because setting up the kids with food takes forevvvver.

    HOSTESS TO HER KID: Here you go, sweetie pie, a burger and a salad.
    Holy shit, her kid eats salad?!!!

    ANOTHER MOM TO HER KID: How did you already finish your veggies? You are a total veggie-aholic.
    OMG, I am literally drooling with jealousy.

    ANOTHER MOM: See? I told you you’d like hummus, honey.
    And then there’s me. Unwrapping my embarrassing tinfoil package of chicken nuggets and veggie straws (made of real veggies but I’m pretty sure the way they make them is by taking real vegetables and sucking any redeeming qualities out of them) as quietly as possible so no one notices the shitty processed food I brought for my kids to eat. It’s like every single crinkle in the tinfoil makes the loudest noise you can imagine, and every child within a two-block radius hears me and sees what I’m doing.

    HOSTESS’S KIDDO: Mommy, can I have chicken nuggets?

    ANOTHER KIDDO: Yeah, I want chicken nuggies!

    OTHER KID: Me too!
    And they push their plates away and start banging on the table.

    KIDS EVERYWHERE AROUND THE WORLD: We want nuggets! We want nuggets! We want nuggets!
    Awwwwww shit, busted. And guess who didn’t bring extra chicken nuggets for all the other kids? Yup, I’m that asshole. The asshole who carefully counted out ten chicken nuggets and was too stoopid to pack more for the other kids, just in case.

    HOSTESS: No, Ariel, eat your hamburger.

    OTHER MOM: The nuggets are only for kids with allergies, honey.
    Uhhhh, yeahhhh, my kids have allergies, that’s it. Shit, I totally should have just lied and said that in the first place. But it’s too late. Plates are being thrown, kids are freaking out, and the moms are desperately pleading with their kids to eat the regular BBQ food.

    KID: Nooooo, I HATE veggies!! I want nuggets!

    ANOTHER KID: Wahhhhhh, I don’t want regeeler chicken!!! I want veggie straws!

    KID: It’s not fair!! I want veggie straws and I want them NOWWWW!!!!
    And since I don’t want to be an even bigger asshole, I take some veggie straws off my kids’ plates, and divide them up so every kid has a few, which seriously pisses off Zoey and Holden.

    ZOEY: Nooooooo!!! Those are mine!!!!

    HOLDEN: Wahhhhhhh!!! Give me back my veggie straws!!
    And Holden throws himself across the table to grab his veggie straws back and he ends up knocking three plates off the table including Zoey’s. And the family dog who’s been patiently watching the whole scene sees his cue and bolts over and catches Zoey’splate in midair like a Frisbee and wolfs down like every single chicken nugget and veggie straw in one gigantic gulp and holy crap do the kids go ballistic now.

    RUGRAT: Nooooo, Bailey!!!

    KIDDO: It was all the chicken nuggets we had!!!!

    ZOEY: Wahhhhh!!!! What am I going to eat nowwww?!!!!
    Hmmm, I don’t know, what on earth could you eat now? Mayyybe, oh, here’s an idea, how about a huge, juicy, delicious hamburger? I put it down on her plate.

    ZOEY: AGGGHHHH, NOOO, GET IT OFF!! GET IT OFFFF!!!

    HOSTESS: Who wants dessert?!
    And the scene literally goes from a mess of snot and tears to a scene of total jubilation.

    KIDS: Ice cream! Ice cream! Ice cream! Ice cream!
    And just like that, it’s the best BBQ ever and the rest of the evening is totally awesome, which pretty much sucks donkey butt because I’m 200% sure we are never going to be invited back there again. Ever.
    And that, my friends, is what it’s like to have picky eaters. So believe me, if there was anything I could do to make my kids like regular food and eat like normal human beings, I would do it.

    HOLDEN: Hey, Nemo is on my cup!

    ME: Yup.

    HOLDEN: But I want two Nemos.

    ME: Well,

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