|
I'm A Mean Mommy, Yes I Am
By Lisa Barker.
If I HAD the money to drop into a 'swear jar' my family would be well on it's way to Orlando, Florida by now.
This is the SEVENTH time I have had to put back together the closet in my little twerps' (the toddlers) room. For some reason, the entire inventory of Toys R Us that they have overflowing from the toy box is not enough to occupy their little minds. No, they have moved on to bigger and better things -- the only closet in the house where I can store my Stuff.
Yes, that's right, MY Stuff. Stuff that Momma keeps just for herself and doesn't divvy up among all the little chubby outstretched hands. Everything but my chocolate stash. I hide that under the broccoli. Or the broom. I KNOW nobody is going to find it in those places.
But the rest of the stuff has to go somewhere and unfortunately it's in munchkin territory.
Things like all my craft supplies and hand-me-down clothes from the eldest for the youngest, wrapping paper and accessories, china, sewing material and you name it I have it in that closet including a bajillion multi-colored feathers and coins from last year's Mardi Gras party. Can you just picture the guilty culprits peering solemnly from beneath a mountain of feathers?
So naturally, while the two of them are SUPPOSED to be taking a nap, they're taking down my life collection of family photos and keepsakes and making one big fat mess that took me three hours to clean up the first time.
I can just hear a new-model parent, all sparkly from the delivery room, citing some Doctor Whose-it about the fact that my children need more of my attention and this is their only way of asking for it. Well, I'll tell you what attention they got. Ever see two pint-sized humans sitting in chairs in the corner looking forlorn and somber? Yes, it's enough to melt even the angriest mom's heart, but I'm not finished with them yet.
I want pain. I want retribution. I want a piece of chocolate!! But I gave that up just in time for my new diet to coincide with a new stage of antics from my tots.
And I hear that stress contributes to the weight you pack on your middle and thighs. Great. I have five kids. By the time the last one graduates from high school I should weigh well over five hundred pounds.
Okay, time to use my brain. Time to put all their toys in the closet and all my stuff in their toy box. It's a simple matter of reverse psychology. Don't tell me I'm losing my marbles. I never had them anyway. The first boy filched them and gave them back to me as gifts.
"Where did you get these?"
"I just found them!"
"WHERE did you find them?"
"On the very top shelf in the back of your closet in a tiny box buried under all those feathers and coins."
You see what I mean? My kids ARE cortisone and they are sticking to my thighs with ever incident!
"AIDEN MICHAEL BARKER TURN AROUND!" My littlest is caught trying to enjoy his time in The Chair. That'll be one more minute in Time Out.
And the level of oxygen in the atmosphere drops significantly as new moms everywhere suck in their breath and flip through their brand-spanking-new mothering manuals. "Time outs should only be one minute per every year of the child's age."
My two-year old is thirty years old today, did you know that?
Copyright © Lisa Barker. Lisa Barker writes from home amid the chaos and confusion of a busy household. Mom to five kiddos and nine cats, she finds ample material to keep the smiles and laughs coming. Laugh out loud at JellyMom.com! Reprinted with permission.
|
