Mommy is tired . . .
- Of being the only one who cleans up the dog poop on the family room floor. I know you see it. Don't pretend you don’t. With 3 kids, I've spent the last 10 years being the primary poop-cleaner-upper. Help a sister out, man up, and pick up the poop!
- Of being the only one who ever carries anything upstairs. We’ve been through this before. A pile at the bottom of the stairs is the international signal for take-your-sh*t-upstairs.
- Of finding snack wrappers in the family room, in the couch, on the buffet, on the side table. Walk your @ss to the trashcan.
- Of Hubby treating the dining room chair as his own personal valet.
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| Passive aggressive? Yes. Gonna land me in jail? No. It was a conscious decision. |
- Of being the Bad Guy. Small's new mantra? "Mommy says no! Daddy says yes!" Um, this is Parenting 101 . . . Mommy says no, Daddy says NO.
- Of being responsible. I want to go to sleep at 8:30 and let someone else worry about whether or not the kids have brushed their teeth or if they’re in their rooms watching inappropriate you tube videos on the ipad when they should be sleeping.
- Of having to take the cup out of the athletic supporter before I throw it in the washer. Do me a solid . . . take it out yourself so I don’t have to. It’s kinda . . . gross.
- Of flushing the boys’ toilet every morning. Seriously? THIS is why your bathroom smells like a high school locker room.
- Of finding those little Rainbow Loom rubber bands every-friggin-where.
- Of repeating myself. Repeating myself. Repeating myself. Life would be so much simpler if my boys would just (choose one. Or more. I don't care anymore.)
- Get up
- Get dressed
- Get their coats and shoes on
- Focus on their homework
- Get their uniforms on
- Brush their teeth
- Sit down at the table
- Stop talking about poop, flatulence, boogers or any other bodily functions.
That is all. Happy Monday to you.
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Be nice, kids.