06 Feb What I Want to Say to My Kids, but Can’t.

It is Monday night and I am sitting here putting the final edits on my blog post and my two boys are running around the house like FUCKING FOOLS. All I can think is “Why me, God? Why, me?!” Then it came to me, instead of sharing another story about my life, I am going to share some super real shit.   I am going to share a look into the thoughts that come to me every evening between 5 pm and 11 pm. on a daily basis. I KNOW all you mommas are gonna be able to relate to this one. I call this “What I Want to Say to My Kids, but Can’t.”

First of all, stop tapping my damn shoulder. I can’t see back there, but I’m almost positive it now has a permanent dent from your constant poking. Yes, I can hear you. Yes, I can feel you. I am simply ignoring you. And to piggyback that thought, it doesn’t matter how many times in a row you say my name. I am still ignoring you.

Oh and by the way, whatever you are trying to ask me, I am going to say “NO!” seven times before I get so irritated that I say “maybe.” I want you to know that “maybe” is a lie. Yep, I said it. I lied. Your mother is a liar. I’m definitely not going to do whatever I just “maybe’d.” However if I don’t say something to get you TF out of my face right this second, I’m going to lose my shit on you and that would make me feel terrible. Then I will stay up all night thinking that I just screwed you up mentally for the rest of your life.

So let’s just not.

“What am I making for dinner?” you ask. Why does it matter? You have no choice but to eat whatever I serve because you are not old enough to get a job and therefore cannot afford to buy your own food. So instead of going through the whole “Ugh! I hate meatloaf!” spill, just shut your mouth and eat the damn meatloaf.

Excuse me? You want soda for dinner? You already act like a damn crack head and you think I’m about to willingly give you soda 45 minutes before bedtime? HA! “…but Timmy’s mom let’s him have soda for dinner!” Perfect! I’ll call Timmy’s mom and ask her if she has an extra room for you in her house of Cola.

And while you wait for dinner, please don’t ask me for 60 million snacks.  This is not a fucking restaurant and the pantry is NOT the appetizer showcase. Honestly, I’m not even really mad that you want a treat before dinner. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I don’t want you to get cavities and spoil your appetite and shit. But what I’m really concerned about is that you will eat all of the snacks before the end of the week forcing me to go to the grocery store once again and have to spend money on Rice Krispy Treats and fruit snacks. So no.

What’s that you say? You’ve got a joke? Well let me save you the hassle because I already know the punch line. Let me guess. Butt? Yeah. It’s butt. Because you are too young to know real comedy and for some reason you are infatuated with rear ends. Grow up.

Hey! Hey! Hey! Put that down! My tampons are not lightsabers, ya jagaloons!

I swear if you ask me for one more fucking snack!

Help you with your homework? Of course, but if it’s math take that shit to your dad. There is not enough wine in this world to get me through 5th grade division for a second time. Especially with this new math you guys are learning. I mean wtf ever happened to just memorizing your multiplication facts? Now you want me to subtract 2, carry the 4, take 5 to dinner and buy a vowel just to get the answer to 3×3. Uh. No thank you.

What is all of this shit? I gave you one, single cookie and you’ve managed to get Oreo particles everywhere! How TF did you get crumbs inside your socks? Speaking of socks, do you not feel the giant hole your big toe is hanging out of? I literally just bought you new socks two weeks ago and your Freddy Krueger claws have already gone to town on those thangs! This is why I don’t buy you nice things…

Now take your stank ass up to the bathroom and take a bath. I’m not talking your normal I’m-just-gonna-run-the-bath-water-and-pretend-I’m-clean shenanigans. Really get in there this time and CLEAN YOUR ASS! The gig is up.

You smell like a boiled egg. Really, it’s sickening.

Don’t forget to brush your teeth! For at least 2 minutes and please don’t forget your tongue because it reeks like a mildewed dish rag. And for the love of God, if you are going to go in my bathroom and use my toothpaste, PUSH FROM THE BOTTOM UP! And would it kill you to put the fucking cap back on? I would prefer to not have a bottle of Colgate bustin’ a nut on my counter every damn morning.

Ok. It’s time for bed and I do not have time for your shit today. Just give me a kiss and skedaddle. Come again? What’s that you say? You’re thirsty? You want water? You mean the same water that you had a major fit about during dinner because it wasn’t your drink of choice? And now, if you don’t have said water, you’re going to die of thirst? Oh how the tables have turned.

Get TF.

Ahhhhh. Finally. Some peace and quiet. This is nice. Don’t you just love the sound of the uncorking of a wine bottle. What’s on TV? Oh. The Kardashians. This is nice.

*2 minutes later*

It’s pretty quiet up there. Maybe I should go check on the kids and make sure they’re okay.

Let me put this glass down cause I’m turnt AF.

Wow. They’re really sleeping. Wait…are they sleeping? I can’t tell if they’re breathing. Let me just get a little closer to check… Ok, cool. They’re breathing. You know what? These are some good looking kids. I may not be able to do a lot right, but my kids sure are cute. Look at them. Such pains in my ass, but I love those little fuckers. Awww. Now I miss them. Is it weird that I wish they would wake up for a little?

*Kisses boys on forehead and proceeds to tiptoe out of their room*

“Mommy?”

Fuck!