Olivia, 4: “Um, Mommy. Can you please haves another baby? I’ll even gives you a million dollars if you do it.”
Mommy: “Nope. Not happening. Ever. Not even for one hundred million dollars.”
Olivia, 4: (pouting)
Camryn, 6: (looking hopeful) “Ok. Well, what if I gave you eight quarters? You’d want to do it then, right?”
That rare moment when you are actually vacuuming the house and you stumble upon a long lost Squinkie toy under the couch and instead of picking it up and returning it to its’ rightful six-year-old owner, your lazy ass sucks it up into the deep depths of the vacuum, and pray your child has completely erased the little plastic nugget from thier mind forever so you never get caught. Yep. That was my shameful moment for the day…thus far.
If there’s a hell, I am certain the soundtrack playing on a constant loop in the background is four-year-old Olivia playing her rendition of “Hot Cross Buns” on a recorder.
And I hope that one day her preschool music teacher is forced to pay a lengthy visit to the fiery depths as punishment for thinking that sending the recorder home was a splendid idea.
“Yes. Olivia would love to attend Thomas’ birthday party.” (at 6:00 pm on a Thursday night in a sweaty germ-filled bounce house place where she will gorge herself little self on a huge slice of birthday cake slatered in hyper-behavior inducing icing at at the time she should normally be heading to bed and then be handed a big goodie bag chockful of even more sugar laden treats an hour past her missed bedtime)
Don’t be jealous of the night I have in store…but be very jealous that I just took one big leap up the Mommy of the Year 2012 ladder with this move…
Mommy: (walks into kitchen and spots Olivia) “Olivia, I really need you to finish your lunch now. We have to leave to get your sister at school soon.”
Olivia, 4: “Well. Um, ya know…Justin Beaver is in here and I really needs to finish looking at these pictures of him first. Then I cans eat.”
Mommy: (speechless, while deciding whether to laugh, cry or rip the magazine to shreds)
Camryn, 6: “Uh, I am so full I can’t eat another bite of my dinner!”
Mommy: “Ok.” Camryn, 6: (peers into freezer) “So, ah what kinda ice pops do you have for dessert tonight?”
Mommy: “I thought you were full.”
Camryn, 6: “I am. For dinner. But I always leave room for dessert.” (rips open a watermelon ice pop)
What’s more annoying than having to listen to that 90’s hit “Everybody Dance Now” from that not-so-really talented music group C + C Music Factory? Being forced to listen to your children’s remix of it which substitues all the lyrics with super loud, high-pitched meows at 7:45 in the morning.
<formulates a plan to get to the nearest emergecy exit stat>
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Because after having one of those days that kicks your ass and leaves you begging for it to finally end so you can jump into your bed and start ove…r again tomorrow…you log on to your computer and read the following message and realize that, yes…everything really will be ok. “I just want to say thank you. Thank you for making me realize that being a Mom is NOT an easy job and that I am NOT the only one that questions myself about raising my kiddos. Any time that I need a pick me up, I visit your page and end up leaving with a sense of “It’s going to be ok” and a smile…”
Being sideswipped, at 9:00 am, with such questions as, “Mommy, when will I die? When will you die? When someone dies they just disappear? How will you die? How will I die?” by a four-year-old who is determined to get some answers and won’t stop until she does.
<Mommy takes a deep breath, holds back the tears, saves them for later and prays her answers were the right ones, because they don’t teach you about this stuff in school….>
What’s worse than being judged by a member of your very own family? Nothing. So, that is why all hats are off to you…the ever-so-irritating judgemental family member who is always quick to spew out the obnoxious, uncalled for, condescending criticisms to any other family member…for you are the grand prize winner of today’s FU award. Congratulations.
Camryn, 6: “Hey, Mom. I was just wondering. Are you able to text Target?”
Mommy: “Why would I text Target?”
Camryn, 6: “Ah, well. See, I have been thinking about this one particular stuffed animal they might have there. Ya know, in case you decide I earned my allowance for this week and I can get it.”
Mommy: “For real with this?”
Camryn, 6: “Yeah. For real. (pause) And just in case you need to know…her name is Poppet. She’s a Moshi Monster. She’s pink and so cute and the last time I saw her she was next to some Littlest Pet Shop toys.”
I stumbled upon this quote today and I must thank you, Ms. Landers, for this gentle push to make the executive decision to resign myself as four-year-old Olivia’s personal on-call butt-wiper. Because let’s face it, a truly successful adult is one that wipes their own ass. And to Olivia…I wish you luck and underwear without poopy stains on them for years to come. You got this, little lady. You got this.
That glorious moment as you drive off following the morning school dropoff and realize you have total freedom to change the radio station the moment One Direction starts whining through your car speakers without getting scolded by their biggest four and six year old fans from the backseat.
<fires up the Ipod and blasts the uncensored version of her favorite Jay-z song>
A big thank you to NickMom for posting this cartoon that does a fine job communicating exactly how much I truly loathe beach trips with the little ones. However, it is rather comforting to know I am not the only one out there who is repeatedly getting their mommy ass handed to them each and every time they attempt a seaside field trip with the kids en tow. Defeat at its finest…every f#*king time. Blech.
Adorable mini-sized cap and gown: check
Beyond excited graduating preschooler who has spent the last four months memorizing and perfecting the song, “At the Hop” for today’s performance: check
An endless supply of tissues for Mommy who is already welling up just typing about her baby girl moving on to kindergarten: check
Question: What’s creepier than some creepy guy sitting in his car alongside yours a red light and creepily staring at you while you are innocently eating a banana?
Answer: Not much. And now if you’ll excuse me, I must go take a long hot shower for I feel violated and dirty. Next time I’m going with an apple for the afternoon snack…
Because it’s Monday morning. Because I am hormonal. Because sometimes ya just gotta let it out.
These are the things gnawing at my sanity today…
1. Being awoken to the sounds of my children mid-screaming match over which iCarly they should watch next.
2. Children hanging on my shopping cart in the store so that I cannot make a turn down an aisle without breaking a sweat.
3. Fulfilling a request for a particular meal only to be told my little angels actually changed their mind once it hits the table.
4. Being hit with a tidal wave of demands for a drink, a cheesestick, how to spell such words as armadillo and Antarctica etc. just as my ass hits the toilet seat.
5. Having to add a minimum of eleven minutes to the morning school day routine to make time for sunblocking purposes.
6. That small, elite group of mommies who are always there with a perfect little solution to your every mommy woe, yet can’t control their own kids if their life depended on it.
7. <<insert your mommy pet peeve here….>>
…Thanks for listening. I feel better already. Happy Monday.
Escorting your child to a kiddie bounce house birthday party with twenty sweaty kids in attendance, of which, nineteen will lick, drool on and/or put their whole mouth over the faucet of the water fountain they are all in line to drink from after an hour of bouncing…let the germ swapping begin. <gags>
Olivia, 4: (on the walk to preschool dropoff) “Hey uh. Mommy. Could you not do’s that whole kissing me goodbye thing today?”
Mommy: (kisses Olivia at the school entrance)
Olivia, 4: “Hey Mommy, I says no kisses today!”
Mommy: (watches Olivia make her way down the hallway to her classroom and mumbles to herself) “Not a chance because, here’s the thing…pushing you out of my vagina automatically gives me the privilege to kiss and hug you any darn time I feel the need, little lady.”
Those people who proudly step out of the gym and pat themselves on the back for a job well done…and then begin creating a plan of attack on that extra dessert they earned tonight as a result of their time spent sweating on the treadmill. Yep. That would be this gal right here. T-minus eight hours until dessert time…
I think I am still deciding whether or not I like or feel mocked by four-year-old Olivia’s new habit of referring to me as Ma’am in public places, such as the entrance to school this morning…
Mommy: “Have a good day at school today, Olivia.”
Olivia, 4: “Yes, Ma’am. I will.” (enters through school doors)
Teacher: “Did she just call you Ma’am?”
Mommy: “Yes, Ma’am. She sure did.”
Following the 37,456th time of removing the cat from my keyboard while trying to type, I am now fully convinced the children and pets have conspired against me and created a secret document that states the pets will take on the role of interrupting and pestering me during any and all times the kids are away from home, asleep or otherwise not available to fulfill their own pestering duties. <grabs an extension cord and hightails it to the nearest room with a lock on the door>
If using every last ounce of energy you can possibly muster up to drag your overtired, sleep deprived, cranky ass out of bed to get your kid to school on time was a sport, I so would’ve earned the gold medal today…and in an ideal world, I would’ve proudly accepted that sucker, climbed right back into my warm bed and slept like a baby until noon or so.
Olivia, 4: “Mommy, I misses Aunt Irene.”
Mommy: “Oh, don’t worry. We’ll go and visit her soon.”
Olivia, 4: “Wait, er, no. I mean, ah I misses Aunt Debbie.”
Mommy: “Um, ok. Well, we can go see her soon too.”
Olivia, 4: “No, I means that girl. The one who died. What was her name again?”
Mommy: “Are you talking about my grandma that just died? Her name was Gammy?”
Olivia, 4: “Yeah! That’s the one. I misses her.”
Camryn, 6: “Mommy, you know that thing I was talking about the other day about that other thing from last week I said? You know what I’m talking about, right?” Mommy: “Nope. I have no clue.”
Camryn, 6: “Ok, Mom. Well then, let me spell it out for you. G. Um. G-I. Actually forget it. I don’t really know how to spell it after all.”
Mommy: “Sure thing. Forgotten.”
1. When in Target, you will be powerless to the force that draws you to the girls clothing department even when you swore to yourself that this time you’d really stick to your shopping list that consists of only milk, shampoo, dog bones and sunscreen.
2. You will also lose all control and be totally unable to leave the to die for outfits and all their adorable coordinating headbands, hats, purses, jewelry, shoes and socks on the shelf.
3. Lastly, because of the detour to the clothing department, you will forget to buy the f#*king milk and have to make another stop on the way home from Target.
I can honestly say my children would love nothing more than to be served a piping hot bowl of macaroni and cheese at every single meal for the rest of their lives. I can also honestly say and am not ashamed to admit that so would I because let’s be real here…there’s not much that trumps the thin slice of heaven that is a bottomless bowl of mac and cheese. Just saying.
…those handful of songs on the radio that I cannot stand to listen to but are ironically the songs my children beg and plead for me to leave on while in the car. Such examples include, but are not limited to, the following nauseating melodies that never fail to remain in your head for hours after they are heard: Starships by Nicki Minaj, Call Me Maybe by Carly Rae Jepsen, What Makes You Beautiful by One Direction, Boyfriend by Justin Beiber, and Brokenhearted by Karmin. Double middle fingers to you all…
Mommy’s version of therapy: one full, uninterrupted hour of mindless, random browsing of images on Pinterest (all of which I have already forgotten, but know for sure I thoroughly enjoyed perusing nonetheless.)