What exactly is a “parenting expert”? I keep reading all these articles in a desperate attempt to disprove my theory that I’m unqualified to be called Mooooom and come dangerously close to losing my Schmidt every day, usually around dinner time. Every article is written by one of these probably self proclaimed “parenting experts.” Who the H, E double chop sticks is qualified to distribute these titles? What would my title be? No don’t answer that. I’m sure it would be somewhere underneath amateur and a notch above dish rag.
The other night I made tostadas and burritos for dinner. I knew Logan liked them and I knew I could get Kylee to eat a tortilla with cheese on it with minimal resistance. I realize the nutritional value of tortilla with melted cheese is comparable to a hobo’s diet on a good week. Gasp! What would the parenting experts say?! SMH. But getting Kylee to consume anything besides Easy Mac and chicken nuggets is a nothing short of miracle. In fact, we’re talking to a few people about having Morgan Freeman narrate the first time she consumes anything that was grown from the ground or a tree. I’m convinced the only thing that will ever get Kylee to eat something else is the zombie apocalypse when we are forced to eat Vienna Sausages and carrots.
Dinner time, oh how I love to loathe thee. My kids are asking for snacks minutes after they get in my car, seconds after we walk in the door and consuming them before I have said NO!
On this particular night they broke a new record. They were requesting a snack as they were putting their half eaten plates on the counter! So I kindly and ever so patiently returned their plates to them and said, “Sure, here’s a half eaten tostada and a cheese burrito, hold all the good stuff.” Mooom, not dinner, we want a snack. Duh mom! I know right? Shut up, kids!
I swear one day I’m going to get my serving platter and fill it with Go-Gurt, string cheese and cheetos out and say, DINNER TIME -COME AND GET IT! They would be pooping logs as hard as legos for a week!
Speaking of poop, Logan just loves crap. I don’t know what else to say. He told his teacher the other day that I farted, which wasn’t true AT.ALL! I’m sure I looked real innocent when I tried to defend my honor by saying, NAH UH! Hopefully she believed me when the next thing he said was that I pooped on his face. It’s possible his teacher just gave me the pity laugh and filled out a form the second we left the parking lot. Hmmm.
Frustration usually come in doubles and triples… Let’s just say multiples. If it were a baseball game we’d be winning.
Ahh shower time. Attempting to take a shower while the kids are awake is much like a non-deadly game of Russian roulette. You either get in an out without interruption (this happens as often as a solar eclipse) or you get in and immediately receive numerous requests that you are physically incapable of assisting with because YOU.ARE.IN.THE.SHOWER
doesn’t matter if you brief the little turds on what’s about to go down. My
shower de-briefs sound a lot like this: OK LISTEN TO ME. ARE YOU LISTENING?
LOOK AT ME. STOP WHAT YOU’RE DOING AND LOOK AT ME. OK, NOW, MOMMY IS ABOUT TO
TAKE A SHOWER. BEFORE I GET IN, DO YOU NEED ANYTHING? DO YOU NEED ME TO HELP
YOU WITH ANYTHING?
They respond with a quick, NO and NO and continue on whatever I just interrupted them from. But the second you start washing your face you all the sudden have an audience and a multitude of events will have just transpired. Then I have a 6 year old speaking faster than the actual speed of light about how her 3 year old brother hit her and she wants justice immediately and how someone is at the door and she would be happy to answer it for me. NOOOO don’t answer the door! Mass confusion is erupting and I’m naked with little control over the situation. A few seconds later the culprit walks in asking that I get him a new go-gurt because he squirted his all over the kitchen floor. What? There’s a mess? How bad is it? Kylee go look and see how bad it is. Don’t attempt to clean it! He’s also asking if I can put a the Ninja Turtle DVD in and before I can say
HELL NO I CAN’T I’M IN THE SHOWER
anything Kylee interjects how it’s her turn to watch a show and she doesn’t
want to watch Ninja Turtles. A new argument erupts whilst I’m still buck naked
and striped of any real authority in this moment.
Side Note: These kids are little mind ninjas and pick the only time I’m truly vulnerable to pull these shenanigans. Another Side Note: I can’t wait until Kurt and I are married and I have back up to assist me with all this. I’m sure he’s stoked too.
I can’t be sure because I’m in the shower but I think I begin to sweat profusely and then demand everyone get the frack out of the bathroom NOOOOOW!!! I’m sure it sounds much scarier than I intend it to be due to the echo of a bathroom. They jolt their tiny little necks back in shock and completely oblivious as to why I just thru an adult size tantrum all over my shower. They walk away with this look like, Geez mom what’s your problem as soap is dripping into my mouth and in my eyes.
Any given week night could be confirmation that I am far from receiving my “parenting expert” title. But in my defense, I did not allow snacks that night, Kylee went to bed hungry last night, we only watched one episode of SpongBob, we read a few books, did a puzzle, I did 3 loads of laundry and I showered in peace last night. I say that deserves a “Parenting Amateur” title and I’ll wear it proudly.