No.

Warning, this entry is about my kid. It's not some bragging bullshit update about her executing cold fusion in the kitchen or anything, but it is about my kid.

This evening, as I was making dinner (some kick-ass Italian pork chops that Christina over at "She Runs, She Eats" would be proud of...), my daughter was on the phone with her best friend. Why they need to speak on the phone, I don't quite understand, since we live right next door to her family, and they spend more time together than most sisters do, but whatever. My kid is a wandering phone-talker, meaning she doesn't sit still while on the phone. 30 seconds on the couch, 30 seconds in her room, 30 seconds wandering aimlessly...if we didn't have doors she would likely wander the neighborhood while on the phone. As I'm cooking, here are two snippets I hear from her conversation:

"...I don't have any problem with him being shorter than her, it's not that big a deal since he's so cute..."

And:

"...That way I don't have to be mad at him for dating Miranda Cosgrove..."

I just kinda laugh it off and attend to my killer pork chop dinner. Then she comes out of her room and says "L--- and I are SO MAD, you know that shaggy haired James that we both like? He's dating Miranda Freakin' Cosgrove!" Because I'm a good dad, I make a face as if I'm about to cry and say "NO! That is TERRIBLE!" Her response was something along the lines of "You don't even care, so don't bother talking to me about it." I affirm for her that I don't care at all and life goes on.

Then I think about it. FUCK, my kid is a pre-teen and acting all girly about some douchebag TV kid, which can only mean that soon, she will be a real teen acting all girly about real douchebag kids.

No.

I am not ready for this. I am not at all ready to start dealing with this shit. When she was a cute little baby just being cute and shit, being a dad was the greatest thing ever. Now that she is on the verge of making my life miserable for the next 10-12 years (I'm not so dumb as to think it will stop when I kick her ass out at 18), I am not so enthused about being a dad. I hate drama, I hate dealing with it in any way, and I know that I am about to have to deal with it in Biblical proportions. It's like I'm watching the tsunami coming, but know that running is as useless as standing still. I am fucked.

Not surprisingly, my proposal to my wife that I check out and do my own thing for the next 9-10 years was immediately shot down without consideration, so it looks like I'm stuck. Which really sucks, because I am not at all interested in playing this game. Yeah, I know, good influence, strong role model, blah blah blah, but at this point, I'm not convinced that demonstrating a "turn and run like a panicking bitch when you're outmatched" approach is a bad thing. This isn't Sparta, I don't have shit to prove. I mean really, is it that bad to recognize when you don't stand a chance and just cut your losses? Pride has killed a lot of motherfuckers throughout history.

So I stand on this precipice of teenaged girl stress-fuck insanity, and I am mortified. I don't remember this mentioned when I signed for this parenthood thing. And if it was mentioned, maybe I thought I would trade this model in for a newer one long before it became an issue or something. I was obviously misled on that being an option. I really should read fine print.

So there it is. Shaggy haired James is dating Miranda freakin' Cosgrove and my life is fucked. The worst part of it is that I don't like hangovers enough to drink my way through this whole timeframe, and being sober during it all sounds positively horrific. No, the worst part of it is that she's only 9 fucking years old. This tsunami is going to get infinitely larger before it hits the beach, and I just get to stand there and watch my impending demise. When I think about it like that, the hangovers sound like something I could get used to.

Fuck you, shaggy haired James.