Yesterday we received an epic posting from one of our readers about about a baby shower that resulted in the mom-to-be sending out some amazingly greedy poetry responses to some of the gifts she received. Some readers say that this whole thing was a fake, and that no poem was actually sent. Because working for a parenting website means I have pretty much seen all sorts of bad behavior when it comes to gift giving and etiquette, if this was a real thing it would not shock me. Regardless, you readers came up with some pretty epic poetry responses of your own that can be used in all sorts of occasions, and here are some examples. Forgive me if I missed anyone, but all of the poems were amazing. I cried I laughed so hard.
Entitlement much it's easy to see
You ask that I sign over my hard earned cash
You can look high
And you can look low
But all you'll find
Not even a shiny penny will show,
Registered at these stores are you
Sue me if you like tell your Family too
An Acquaintance am I
None of the lines of the poem you wrote are to my liking
You say Babies need a lot of things
But did you also know
Thats the job of the donor of Sperm and the layer of Egg
If loot was a plenty as you saw and greedily say
Then why wasn't it enough
Please have more of your say...
Babies need a lot
Of this fact we all know
And as they get older
Their needs will just grow
Babies need diapers
and bottles, oh yes
But the most important thing
(Can you guess?)
Is a parent to teach
And to give them advice
To make sure they know
What is good, right, and nice
And since it appears
That your baby is lacking
I've decided to help
And make up for your slacking
This book will teach manners
And etiquette too
In short, there is hope
He'll be nothing like you
Your poem sucks,
your attitude too,
but I give you my thanks,
for such blatant truths.
I thought I knew greed,
that is before I met you,
If I say no to the gifts,
will you threaten to sue?
Please refrain from calling,
E-mail and texting too
For after this I want nothing,
Nothing to do with you.
For Facebook Oversharer Parents
A free Facebook page always seems like a steal
When you log on and they ask you what you think and feel.
But I don't need to know if your sex life is slow
Or if your kid pooped? Don't tell and show.
I like you or else we wouldn't be friends
But when I see your statuses it gives me the bends
Your cats are sweet looking and I guess food is nice
But stop posting photos of your sticky fried rice.
Pets and babies aren't the same
So tell me, am I the one to blame
When you post crap all the time about your sick dog
And I don't hit "like" on the post about him in your blog?
from Aimee Ogden:
The poop your daughter failed to flush,
the puke your son couldn't swallow;
Your kids' bodily fluids make me rush
to see how fast I can click "unfollow".
You used to be fun, you used to be kind
You used to know how to have a good time
Now you make me lose my mind
I write a post about enjoying tequila with lime
Before the kid, you would have agreed
But now the only thing you mention on my status
Is that's what it smelled like last time your kid peed
I'm very sorry you've lost your mind, like my great aunt Gladys
All your pictures involve your baby covered in poo
And sorry but if this doesn't end
I must admit we're close to being through
And I just might have to hit unfriend
There once was a mommy who lived down the street,
Who passed on "advice" to the ones she did meet.
"Breastfeeding is best! Put that iPhone away!"
And on and on all day, she would bray.
"When Bentleigh was 12 weeks, she could stand on her own,
It's because I never left her side ONCE in the home!"
All of her friends she held captive would smile,
As she boasted of how she hadn't slept in a while.
"True mommies," she sniffed, "Are too BUSY for naps!
Or taking a shower, or even a crap!"
And immunizations, well, she huffed and she puffed,
Well, her little Braxton would never touch the stuff!
Only organic, t'was the only way,
To keep all those bad poisons and disorders away!
"Ol' Doctor Google is all that I need!
The only thing "specialists" think of is greed!"
And as her friends nodding picked up their teacups,
from one of her children there came a big fuss.
Slathered with poop, and red in the face,
The other women thought it such a disgrace.
But Sancti just laughed, and reached for her cell,
and took fourteen pictures, oh, my, it was swell!
She put them on Facebook, with a message that said:
"Being a mommy is tough! Look at Fred!
He's covered in poop from his toes to his head!
But my life is perfect, and I say so because,
I never knew how empty my whole life once was!
I used to hang with my friends all the time,
Drinking and socializing, it was sublime!
Or at least I THOUGHT so before my kids came along,
And I can tell each of you all, I was WRONG.
And one thing that always confuses me today,
Is why SOME lonely-immature-selfish-horrible-single women would pass it away!"
Content with her post, she let out a sigh,
But when she looked up, she couldn't believe her eye.
All of her friends, they had all disappeared,
leaving her alone with a baby poop-smeared.
She cleaned up her baby, and picked up her phone,
Seeing that there were already 5 likes, alone.
And comments rolling in of sweet validation,
She knew she made the best of her shit situation.
There once was a mum I detest
My own kids she thought she knew best
But while me she is boring
Her own kids she's ignoring
While my "flawed" kids feel happy and blessed
When my baby and I ventured out in the city
He started to wail so I whipped out a titty
"Disgusting!" you screech, "I am trying to eat,
I should not have to sit here and stare at your teat!"
"Surely not," I respond, "There is so much to see
On this lovely, fine day. You need not look at me."
"I'm a man!" you reply, "Look away? I cannot!
If you value my soul cover up what you've got."
"But my baby must eat so we'll try this instead,
Take a blanket and use it to cover your head.
A blanket is perfect for blocking your view
Of all that's considered offensive to you"
"It's too hot for a blanket" you say "I would roast!
That is not how I like to eat tuna on toast."
"Your problem is tricky, but sir don't despair.
Just look to your left. There's a bathroom right there.
The bathroom is filthy and probably smelly
But a nice, private place you can fill up your belly.
So please don't be shy. Find your very own stall.
Close the door; take a seat. You won't see us at all.
People who touch your pregnant belly
Maybe we can blame hormones, which made me so deranged
That I react this strongly to your belly-touching action,
But if you want to feel a kick, well that can be arranged,
Just remember you asked for it when I put your ass in traction.
From candy Vines: