Hi, I'm mom. That burnt, cold food must be mine.
My life will never be the same after having kids. It’s ok. I have no choice but to accept it, so I have. With all the love, hugs and pride I experience as Mom, I also deal with a bucket full of bullshit.
Whenever somebody pukes, pees or shits on the floor I get to clean it up… “Hey mom, I know you’re in the shower but the dog pooped in the livingroom…”
Ever since the kids came along Dennis assumes I no longer want to sleep in. “Well, you get up with the kids so…” Um…yea. Because I HAVE to.
Oh, that burger fell off the grill and into the dirt? That one’s moms.
I haven’t had a hot meal in years. Especially when we go out to dinner. I order, get my drink, wait 10 minutes and somebody has to pee or wash their hands-or both. I go to the bathroom, they take FOREVER to do their business and I’m greeted by my plate of food when I get back to the table. Dennis is half way through his dinner…”Geesh, what took you so long?”
As soon as I close the bathroom door, someone is on the other side. “Mom? Are you in there? Can I have some soup?” “I need you to sign this paper for school”…huh? I was just sitting on the couch for an hour, but now I’m busy. Go away.
I cook, clean, do laundry…me, myself and I. You think I could get some help? Yes, I do. But they act like I just told them to go out and pick up dog poop. With their hands. And eat it. It’s a load of fucking towels-just fold them and shush.
I’d like a meal every now and then where I don’t have to say “Stop farting at the table!” Seriously. I don’t want to smell your ass while I’m eating my cold food.
Sometimes I think, “OMG, we need to just get out of the house. Let’s go to dinner, or the movies-the zoo. Anywhere. I’m going nuts. Then we go, and almost immediately I regret it. I spend the whole car ride saying “keep your hands to yourself, god I wish we had a DVD player in here-but then they would just fight about what to watch, settle down, sit up, sit back, roll up your window, why do I do this to myself…”
I put a hamper in the bathroom. They throw their clothes at it.
I find dirty clothes all over the house…socks here and there. Jammies from this morning. And garbage too. Used tissues, old napkins and shrapnel from crafty projects. Every day it’s looks like somebody got in a fight with the toothpaste. How is it always all over the sink AND counter? As if I didn’t have a hard time keeping up with the normal disgustingness of my house.
And Dennis wonders why I drink so much occasionally.