You know that feeling when you are just about to take that last sip of your third glass of wine and you start rambling to your friend about how fast your kids have grown up and how it’d be so amazing to have another pair of little feet running through the house again?
Yeah, me either.
<pours glass #4>
What I Say:
“Come on, Olivia. It’s time for me to give you a shower.”
What She Hears:
“Come on, Olivia. It’s time for you to scream like a tortured raving lunatic while Mommy tries her best to wrestle you into the shower and attempts to rid you of all those stray Oreo crumbs in your left armpit, those pesky chunks of macaroni and cheese hiding in your hair and those streaks of black Sharpie marker you felt it necessary to decorate your legs with. ”
Without fail. Every f#*king time. Somebody make it stop.
Wasn’t it just yesterday they were so small?
Somebody hit the pause button.
Please.
Nothing says good morning like your six-year-old pointing at the large zit on your forehead, commenting on it’s size and then offering up the advice to “just go buy that X-Out stuff she saw on television to just get rid of it.”
PS: I thanked her for her concern and advice and then told her of course we could go buy some X-Out…but not until after we made a stop at the pet store for a muzzle to take care of her nasty case of diarrhea of the mouth first.
Dear Kids,
When you hear me yelling out your full name with an extra emphasis on the middle one, you best start running in the opposite direction of my voice because shit’s about to get ugly. And that’s one to grow on.
With Love,
Mommy
Cashier: “That’ll be $6.33, Miss.”
Mommy: “Ok. Hang on. I know I have the change in here somewhere. Just give me about an hour and a half or so to sift through all these goldfish cracker crumbs, wads of chewed gum, dirty tissues and Squinkie toys to find it for ya.”
9/11/01
Never forget.
♥
Good evening, folks. It’s 8:00 pm and it appears we are right on schedule for yet another evening chockful of bedtime shenanigans courtesy of my kids who will go to any costs to prolong going to bed.
Same shit, different night.
I want off this ride.
<punches out>
“Ya know how I know so much about things, Mommy? It’s because I have a really talented brain.” ~ Camryn, 6
Four year old Olivia has mastered the skill of whistling…really loud…all day long. She is clearly showing a preference for such tunes as Flo Rida’s “Whistle”, “One Direction’s “You Don’t Know You’re Beautiful”, Katy Perry’s “Wide Awake” and the well-known crowd pleaser, Carly Rae Jepsen’s “Call Me Maybe.”
…And just like that, there was yet another addition to my “Top Ten Super Annoying Things Olivia Does that Makes Mommy Want to Check Herself Into an Insane Asylum” list. Lord help me.
Candy bars, that last Oreo cookie in the box, that last handful of peanut M & M’s, the last of the box of Lucky Charms which was the perfect amount to make that very last bowl of delicious marshmallowy cereal snack goodness I put in my belly.
Admit it…you’re just as guilty as I am. And because after all, we f#*kin’ deserve it.
6. Do you have a secure location within your house (ie: bathroom with a lock on the door) to attempt undisturbed phone calls?
7. Do you consider conquering mountain after mountain of laundry to be an enjoyable way to spend most, if not all, of your days?
8. Do you enjoy cleaning up the same exact mess in the same exact room a minimum of fifteen times a day?
9. Have you always wondered what it’d be like to have company each and every time you had to move your bowels, shower or shave?
10. Have you made it through questions 1-9 and are still entertaning the idea of reproducing?
I am not a fan of running. Even speed walking sucks in my book. However, dangle a package of Reeses Peanut Butter Cups in front of me, have a serial killer chase me with a bloody knife or send one or more whining children after me…and I’m going to run like it’s my job.
And as if my disheveled appearance wasn’t enough to make me want to get out of sight by hiding inside a clothes rack, the children displaying their most obnoxious behavior by climbing all over the shopping carts really made me want to sprint to the nearst emergency exit door and get the hell outta dodge…
My mother’s laughter from the day I called her to tell her I was going to give birth to a girl still echoes in my ears seven years later…now I know why. I offer up my apologies to my mom at least once a week for my childhood antics. This parenthood thing ain’t no joke.
Because television shows about beer, cars or classic rock bands just don’t hold my interest…at all. So, for those nights, I turn to Pinterest, because I can always use another new recipe I’ll never cook, a kiddie craft I’ll buy the supplies for and forget to do with the kids or another picture of a shirtless Mark Wahlberg circa 1990’s. True story.
Camryn, 6: “Hey Mom, can I tell you something before Daddy gets home from work because I don’t think he’ll really want to hear this one.”
Mommy: “Sure.”
Camryn, 6: “Ok, I think I might love Frankie in my class.”
Mommy: “I see. And what makes you love this Frankie more than any of the other boys in your class?”
Camryn, 6: “Well, because he does really funny things that make me laugh so hard.”
Mommy: “Like what kind of funny things?”
Camryn, 6: “Well, he does this thing when he preteds to choke himself. It is like the funniest thing ever and it makes me laugh so much. I so love him.”
Mommy: “Well, it sounds like true love to me, Cam.”
While walking on the treadmill today, I could’ve sworn I heard someone clapping for my exercising efforts.
Turns out it was just my thighs slapping together.
<sigh>
Please feel free to submit your addition to the list of
“Did I Just F#*king say That?!” below.
The more insane sounding, the better.
My Submission…
“Olivia, is that poop or chocolate on your hands and if it is in fact poop…is it yours or someone else’s?”
Ever have your four year old talk back to you, walk away and then unexpectedly turn around to catch you giving them the middle finger for being such a brat? Yeah, me either.
Sadly, I have no choice but to confess to this nonsense, because it takes place around here…Every. Single. Day.
…Now, did you hear what I just said to you? Did you?
Because one day…I WILL make one of those fancy “just came out of the pages of a cooking magazine” looking homemade meals. Just not today. And tomorrow’s not looking too promising either, but one day. One day. <sigh>
Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome aboard the most terrifying ride of your life. Step up and take a seat on the infamous Olivia’s Roller Coaster of Tantrums. Please sit back, secure all loose articles, and brace yourself for the bumpiest ride of your life…because shit’s about to get ugly.
*Disclaimer: This ride is not for the weak of heart.
Where's the f*#king mommy manual?!? 