Now of course I couldn’t possibly fit all of the reasons I’m so amazing into just one post. So this is just part one of a multi-part series. And I’m pretty sure it will be ongoing. Til the day I die.
- Bribery. If I want my kids to do something I simply bribe them. It can be something as simple as, go fill my wine and I’ll count to see how long it takes you. Or something along the lines of, do your sister’s homework and I’ll give you ten dollars. As long as I never have to get of the couch, it’s worth it.
- Electronics. Instead of reading a book or singing a song, I lull my children to sleep with electronics. They prefer escaping reality by watching other families on youtube. And frankly so do I.
- Drugs. When electronics aren’t enough to get me my couch time, I simply drug my children. A little melatonin goes a long way. Kids, time to take your vitamins! They chew them under the allusion it will make them grown strong. When in reality it will knock them out cold.
- Domestics. One thing I never saw my parents do was fight. And look where that got them. They’re dead. One thing my kids see us do on the regular is fight. I’m a vocal person. And my house isn’t big enough for Beau and I to squabble without the entire neighborhood knowing, let alone our kids. I think it’s healthy for them to see. You can’t keep things bottled up inside you until you explode. You need to get that sh!t out and move on.
- Yelling. I read so many dumb articles about moms giving up yelling and how it’s changed their lives. And how amazing it is to not yell anymore. Beat it. You want to know when I’m going to stop yelling? When I’m dead. That’s how you’ll know I’m gone.
- Control. I’ve pretty much given up on controlling my kids. It’s just so hard. I don’t have the energy. They are animals. And I’ve never really been an animal lover. I think of my kids like I think of my bladder. I lost control of them years ago. And I’ve some to terms with that.
- Leaving. When you have a baby a psychiatrist actually visits you in the maternity ward and tells you the worst thing you can ever tell a child is that you’re leaving. I guess this is really scary for a child to hear. Unless you belong to me. It’s my go-to threat. You’re not going to pick up those clothes? Well then I’m leaving. I’m getting my own freaking apartment and you’ll never see me again. This totally worked until one day another child happened upon my rant and said, very nonchalantly, don’t worry she won’t really do it. And that’s when I grabbed my car keys and stormed out of the house and jumped in my car. And cried. Because this is what my life has become.
Now I know you must be looking for the MD after my name. But it’s not there. I’m just a mom. A really freaking amazing one.