What you might want to know about this series of convos and anecdotes.
There’s a whole category chugging along of this smartassery, yo! Check it out.
And if you haven’t yet, read this: I used to judge momsters like me too.
“Oh look, Prince Poutsalot and Prince Poopsalot just got home!”
(Me about my 2YO and 8YO. You get to guess which one is which.)
The question is not “Do my kids need therapy?” but rather, “Which one first?”
FRIEND: And can we get a group discount?
ME: Do I get to go first? What kind of mother would I be if I didn’t make sure it was safe for the kids?
Toddler comes over and opens my shirt, lays his head down and says, “Honor the boobies…honor the boobies.”
11YO: I heard you yelling, what happened??
ME: I just learned again that my new knives are sharp. Hang on, apparently there’s a learning curve here that I wasn’t expecting.
ME: I officially lost my patience with you seven years ago and it’s not back yet.
14YO: Way to hold a grudge.
My children are such funny, adorably delicious, little bastards. There’s so much love in this house.
I offered the 15YO five dollars at the light to jump out and flick someone. He said no because he thought I would drive off.
(Where’s the trust, man?)
ME: Why are you staring at me?
10YO: You’ve grown on me.
ME: What can we do to reverse this brain damage?
8YO: It’s like your piggy toe just died off and your ring toe is carrying all the weight.
ME: Ring toe?
(Later at 9YO he said my pinky toes are lazy and just lay on the others.
But I’m just saying, why even TRY when you’re a pinky toe?
Besides, my friend told me by evolution my lazy toe is not going to be needed, so maybe it’s not lazy but I’m just advanced.)
“Have you seen the size of your head? Your brain is huge. Use it.”
(Me to every kid I have, at some point in their life. More often for the big-headed ones.)
I get extra points for teaching my 4YO manners even though he swears more than most adults, right?
I’m so tired of people telling me to spank my 2YO. It wouldn’t work with his personality anyway! He’d be like, ‘Mom, WTF did you DO that? Knock it off!’
18YO: You know you’re a mama’s boy when you ‘Like’ a majority of your mom’s status’s, you share something ridiculous with her every day, and when you talk about your embarrassing medical history on Facebook as if it were a casual conversation.
Mine is the face that sunk a thousand naughty little boys.
(Helen of Troy has nothing on me.)
(I guess I was too gentle this morning and he’s tired.)
ME: Well, how do you want me to wake you up then?
16YO: The way you usually do. Yell at me.
“I’ll defecate in your bed” is just the sort of twisted threat my 12YO texts my way on the regular. It’s not disturbing at all, only because he doesn’t really mean it, he’s just happy that autocorrect helps him spell a big, shocking word right.
ME: Ignoring me just cannot be good for public safety.
6YO: Not ignoring you. Just taking a breath. I need to breathe. You need to breathe some too.
ME: Indeed. For the public.
Oh look, my kids still like me. How does this keep happening?
9YO: Quit being so paranormal, Mom.
At what point do you stop laughing and tell your 3YO that recording/replaying himself saying “WHAT THE HEWLL?!” 100 times is bad?
14YO: I think my PE teacher is a werewolf. Just hear me out.
His last name is Wolf. He doesn’t wear any silver jewelry. He has a unibrow that he waxes. His middle finger is longer than his pointer finger. So he’s a wolf. And I asked his wife, Mrs. Wolf, and she confirmed his finger. And he’s vegan.
I first thought he was a vampire, but I Googled his symptoms.
ME: Maybe he’s a vampire hiding as a werewolf because no one would suspect that. Especially if he’s vegan and his last name is Wolf.
14YO: Maybe! And it continues… Down the rabbit hole.
Hormones make it possible to become a parent, and almost impossible to parent with patience. That’s the height of irony.
I try to remember that they’re going through the same hormonal explosions that I do. I want them to not be ashamed of what they’re going through, but want our family to come out of it in one piece….however, one wrong step and we’re in a hormonal minefield ‘round here.
Do yourself a favor and don’t call any automated systems that require you to speak into the phone when you have a toddler that (loudly) repeats everything you say word-for-word so the system gets confused and asks you to repeat yourself over and over again. M’kay?
ME: You need a muscle relaxant for your mouth.
9YO: But then MORE bad stuff will just come out, right? I’ll be too relaxed so it will drip out…like diarrhea!
ME: Should I call the school?
16YO: No, I got this.
ME: Okay, but remember, nobody gets to be mean to you except me.
Saying goodnight to my kids was like the end of The Waltons episodes.
(It would be cool if my kids knew who I meant when I said that though.)
“I’m going to need you to stand back about five feet because you’re sucking up all my oxygen.”
(Me setting appropriate boundaries with 17YO.)
Hiding 10 minutes before bed and downing 1/4 of a large jar of Nutella was awesome.
“Duuude, when I do this with my pants, it makes me look like I have camel toe.”
(My highly intelligent, classy, and articulate 16YO laying upside down on my couch.)
“I need you to stop acting like you know everything and instead take a breath and remember that I know everything.”
My toddler and I apparently have a code. Instead of simply saying, ‘I’m hungry,’ he goes to the fridge and brings me an egg.
Check out the next convos page here.