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.
I’m seriously about to pluck and freeze my 4YO and save him for Christmas dinner.
I am not a bad mother. I am merely an un-empathetic psychological researcher studying the effects of stress I have on my kids.
3YO came downstairs to proudly exclaim that he brushed his penis with his brother’s toothbrush.
So. There’s that.
Him: Your relationship with your kids is weird.
ME: Yah, well, my kids are weird. They started it.
ME: I don’t really like giving you a bite off my spoon. My spoon, my rules.
13YO: Yah, well I didn’t really LIKE coming out of your vagina either.
ME: My vagina, my rules?
Dear child, the MUGGLES were from the Harry Potter series. The MONGOLS were the barbarians invading China.
I’m being reprimanded by the 3YO over my not allowing him to play Angry Birds on my iPod Touch. Neither of which I’ve ever had.
ME TEXTING: I was sleeping when you called, you suck.
12YO: Haha, sucker! LOL I love you mom.
ME: I love you too, Man Nugget.
12YO: Man nugget?
ME: Well fine, if you prefer Mini Sperm Shooter…
12YO: OMG mom!
I sometimes tell my kids “Don’t drink the Kool-Aid” just because it’s hilariously confusing to children to have mom make some and then hear that randomly.
15YO: Did you see I hung the towel this time?
ME: I see you left the light on.
15YO: Perfection wasn’t built in a day.
ME: Apparently it wasn’t built in 15 years either.
“Cookies for breakfast? Why not? It’s what the elves do.”
(Coolest mom award.)
3YO stripped naked and is upstairs yelling at phantom brothers and dog who are not there. And I’m totally okay with this.
In the epic war of toddlers versus time zones, battles are always lost because toddlers do NOT understand time zones.
“Wan’ call Granny?”
“Granny’s sleeping!”
“Wan’ call Granny?”
(sighs) “Granny’s sleeping, Buggy.”
“Wan’ call Granny?”
“Granny’s sleeping.”
“Wan’ call Granny?”
“Granny’s sleeping.”
“Wan’ call Granny?”
“But Granny’s sleeping.”
“Wan’ call Granny?”
“Granny’s sleeping, Honey.”
Add infinitum until suitable distraction is found…
First kid stumbles over to us at the pool with foot pain.
Then second kid comes over with face pain from being kicked in the pool.
You put the puzzle together.
14YO told me he would be happy to clean his room if I just left him with no food for three days and hid money in there to feed himself with.
3YO doesn’t want a nap, so he’s laying here, sighing dramatically and whispering, “Chesus Chyst” repeatedly.
Thanks to using texting as a parenting tool, I’ve stopped punching my kids in the head. Mostly.
4YO: Mommy, why do you use that thing?
(He’s referring to the toilet seat hygiene paper. You know, the stuff that’s nearly impossible to use, falls part way in the water, then sticks to your butt when you stand up, drizzling stank water on the back of your pants.)
ME: Because it keeps mommy clean, Hon.
So he yells, “So you can keep your butt clean? Ahha hahahahaaaa. You’re silly, mommy.”
My kid named a new Pokemon character ‘Pungi’ and I told him that sounds like what I get under my boobs when I sweat too much.
Who turned my 3YO into a hippie? I swear he thrust his lil fingers in the air and said, “Peace and freedom!”
“Is that a PB&J in your pocket, or are you just happy to feed me?”
(I like to encourage them to make their own food.)
The verdict is in, my 9YO has poison oak on his face.
Poison oak rashes are disgusting and uncomfortable and he’s starting to weep, and by weep I mean ooze.
Last night the oldest boys were trying to re-nickname him ‘bubbles’ or ‘blemish’.
He’s trying to pull the sympathy card and not do anything, but I told him, “Go throw your trash away, you’re not sick, you’re just poisoned. And yes, you look like a leper, but you’re not sick.”
(I still think the rash was caused by sarcasm though.)
12YO: Dude, hide the crack, mom’s home!
Dads, until your kid tells you he likes how cool your deepest stretch marks are, you can never complain about parenting hell.
13YO made a nest in the corner of the living room out of blankets and dog beds for himself. Yah, that’s about right.
5YO called me from his dad’s phone to ruminate about ‘the cup that covers my penis’. He had put the cup on for T-ball for the first time and it blew his mind.
Boys are fun.
(The next morning he was still ruminating on his baseball ‘cup’, except it was now called a ‘penis hat’.)
Overheard in the snack aisle:
KID: Cheese balls…
MOM: Unhealthy balls. (innuendo implied)
(I’m SO glad I’m not the only one who says stuff like that to my kids.)
ME (laughing): You’re an asshole.
16YO: I know. I like being one.
It may be a little slice of hell having me as a mom sometimes. But at least it’s a hell full of love.
Even on this gloomy day the sun is s,hining in my house. I have a little spunknugget toddler who is laughing at my attempts to sing and making fun of me when I trip on things.
12YO and I came up with a new show concept called, “So You Think You Can Survive My Mother?”
“I don’t think I want to be a ninja. I kind of like that horrified look on your face when you see me coming.”
ME: Do you want me to come back there?! I’m not kidding!
5YO: Hmm… let me check my schedule.
“Let’s just forget I was a hosebeast yesterday and start fresh, okay?”
(Me teaching the kids about forgiveness.)
ME: Wow, look at her hair!
13YO: So cool.
ME: She’s got all the colors of my favorite kind of candy cane. And now I want to suck on her head.
13YO: As if that’s a new thing.
Check out the next convos page here.