Tag Archives: Mommy

Sh!t My Kids Have Ruined

7 Jun

I love my kids dearly.  Really I do.  And I try to teach them to value the pure and honest things in life and to not be materialistic.  But all of my inspirational mumbo jumbo got lost in translation today when I saw my unworn oak brown bcbg pump floating in the toilet.  My heart broke and I cried. So after I made Twin A fish my shoe out of the toilet, it all became so obvious.  My kids have no respect or value for any of our household possessions.  All of the sh!t they’ve messed up popped out as if we were at a 3D movie.

Graffiti'ed walls

Juice on suede couch

Juice, crayons, DNA

My hubby, an avid Jordan sneaker collector, has his shoes stored neatly away in another room and in another closet out of reach from the kids.  He refused to empathize with me and actually chastised me for not keeping my shoes neatly stored in the closet.  Ain’t this about a Bi^@h!  But I got something for all of them!  I’m covering the couches in plastic like Nana use to back in 1988; you know the kind that sticks to your skin if you sit on it too long.  And I’m getting a plastic runner with the pointy things on the bottom that brutally poke your feet if you walk on the wrong side.  And I’m making room in His closet for my pumps, wedges, peep toes, sandals and boots.  My shoes, furniture, walls and TV will no longer fall victim to these ornery kids!

Rule of life #346 Before you drop to your knees and cry uncontrollably like a baby, make sure your kids have left the room.

 

June Cleaver Who?

4 Jun

It seems like everyone has become a professional blogger.  You know how it goes. “This blog is just a platform for me to share my thought-provoking and enlightening experiences”—NOT! My mind works in mysterious ways.  Seriously, sometimes I question the way the synapses synapse to make me think of the things that my brain conjures up.  First let me say, I am a critic of conventional wisdom.  I am the antithesis of June Cleaver.  I will probably offend some but many will fall in love with me. I read parenting books and magazines just to refute the bs they propagate.  My kids eat Kid Cuisine’s, Swedish Fish and watch well over the recommended dose of TV; yet my 6-year-old was the smartest in her class with benchmarks off the charts and my twins are not your average toddlers  (their genius seriously scares me—more about that in later posts).

Think of me as that little nuisance on your shoulder, but are too ashamed/embarrassed/reserved to acknowledge (aloud).  I have no filter and I don’t proclaim to know it all.  I once thought an Atari was a musical instrument and often mistake a screwdriver with a monkey wrench.  But here’s what I do know:  I am a wife to a man who was created just for me.  Seriously he just gets me, no questions asked.  Our relationship just works.  And I am the mother of three of the most adorable little divas-in-trainings, but I’m not afraid to admit they’re bad very adventurous! They’re smart, rambunctious and keep me on my toes.  The four of them are the reasons why Bitchin’ is my first language.

It’s funny because they know when I’m about to get started–even the 20-month-olds.  My nose flares, I pop my gum , huff and puff.  My already soprano voice raises an octave and my Jersey accent mysteriously returns.  Then all of a sudden I speak like a mob boss and the commands begin to spew and everyone scatters.  Well,  scatter is an exaggeration, but they do look at me as if I’m some crazy, possessed person from a Yo Gabba Gabba episode gone bad.  Sometimes my tactics work, and most times it doesn’t.  But I’m no longer in denial.  I bitch, nag and complain and surprisingly, everything stays the same.  Rule of Life #1208 Bitchin’ Ain’t Easy, but look good while doing it.

Photos Courtesy of HWillMama