Day Five: The Most Thankless Job.

Being a Mom (or parent, Dads you totally count too) is the hardest and most thankless job, or life endeavor you will experience. When was the last time you called your mom just to say Hi and see how she is doing? Usually you call her to tell her about your day, vent, ask questions, cry, or need advice. I have literally never called my mom to say, “Hey Mom, thank you for sacrificing everything you have including time, money, and at times your sanity for me”. Even as an adult I call my mom when I am frustrated, sad, worried about money, etc. She is still my parent and will always be a pillar for me to lean on. That is exactly who I want to be for my kids. Fuck being their friend. I want them to always be able to count on me to help them with money (within reason), emotional stability, hard life choices, and to be their voice of reason when they are doing something completely destructive and messed  up.

I say being a Mom is thankless because I have a toddler and infant and they are literally the most selfish creatures in existence (not just my kids but ALL of them). They have to depend on me for every single thing in their world. I grew them, hold them, feed them, give them water, clothes, medicine, EVERYTHING. They have zero control over anything in their lives and depend on me (and my husband) for everything. Have you even seen a toddler throw a temper tantrum? Do not be a super judgy asshole if you do because that kid is literally try to control some aspect of his or her life. I often feel like throwing my hands up when my son does this in the store and crying right along with him because he NEEDS whatever has caught his attention and trust me at that moment he truly believes he NEEDS it. He wants to control what he gets and I want to control the fact that he’s being a total asshole consumer in the middle of Target and make him realize that he will play with whatever has caught his eye for less than a day and move on and it isn’t worth crying over. Wow sorry about that crazy off topic rant… But seriously you guys I give everything to my kids all day everyday because I chose to have them and want to sacrifice everything for them because thats what a good parent does. I do this knowing that they will probably never understand how difficult and amazing being their mom actually is until they procreate themselves. The moral of the story is call your Mom, Dad, Caregiver, whoever raised you and just say hey thanks I appreciate you. (Unless they actually were a shitty parent and then fuck them you don’t need that negativity in your life and I am sorry you didn’t have as awesome of a Mom as I did).


Day Four: Chaos

Being a parent is basically about living in a state of organized chaos. I would say I am an “A-type personality” I like things a certain way. I may be over critical at times *cough cough sorry Colbs* to my husband when he STEALS THE SILVERWARE AND DOESN’T BRING IT HOME,  when he puts mugs in the wrong place, or does something horribly offensive like breath too loud while he is eating. Children give absolutely zero fucks where anything goes or that you just vacuumed your entire house ten minutes ago before spilling an entire bowl of popcorn and them smooshing it into the carpet with their feet because it is funny… There are days I look around my house covered in dog fur, spilled snacks, and sticky shit (that cannot always be identified or is occasionally actual shit) on every surface and think to myself this is actually my life and I chose it. Then my daughter wants a snuggle, or Hudson says something completely adorable like I am his best friend or that he loves me and I instantly remind how awesome my life actually is. Today Hudson and his cousin Brylee literally took out every toy in the house and left them in disarray while my giant dog Sampson is simultaneously ripping the stuffing out of his toy reindeer and throwing it around with a grin on his face. That my friends is chaos.

Day Three: Acceptable cursing.

I am going to start by saying this, NEVER APOLOGIZE FOR PARENTING!:

I have a foul mouth. I have always cursed. I find it absolutely acceptable to enhance language with cursing. I never cuss at my children but they often hear me swearing. For instance, today while driving to the store with the three kids and husband in tow, all singing Raffi, I spot a brick wall that has obviously been hit by a car. I felt that the best way to point out the half demolished wall to my husband was to say and I quote, “Holy shit look at that fucking wall! Someone obviously hit it”. My two and a half year old immediately started to say, “holy shit”. Most parents would scold their kids for that kind of language, I just looked back and him and said, “Dude I know!”.

Do not get me wrong there are some boundaries with teaching Hudson language. He isn’t allowed to cuss at someone and I feel he knows this, he isn’t allowed to say that fucking dog or fucking mom (under his breath because he is two and he does this…). The only taboo word that he ever gets in trouble for and instantly corrected is stupid. I hate it. He has a vast vocabulary if he truly has distain for something he can pick a different word, and I tell him that. It is easy just say “hey dude pick a different adjective”. Does not allowing him to say “stupid” but “holy shit” and “fuck” are acceptable make me a hypocrite? Eh who the fuck cares.

Day Two: Three of them! Three!

I seriously already considered bailing on blog post day two… We are watching my “niece”, my husband’s cousin’s daughter, for the weekend. That means I currently have two toddlers and an infant, three kids all one year apart. Those of you with more than two kids I am amazed that you are still a functioning person and you have my utmost respect as a parent. Today at dinner with the three of them I was trying to feed myself and Knox who is only 7 months old and a choking risk dinner, while my husband is yelling at Hudson for trying to stab his cousin Brylee (and she’s laughing hysterically because Hudsy can do no wrong in her eyes) with a fork. Somehow we successfully made it through dinner and bedtime with no tears, stitches, or vomit. I count that as a win.

Target where dreams live and budgets die.

Okay so here we go…

Yesterday I decided to take my children and mom (who is visiting) to Target to look for new shoes for my toddler. Seemingly simple task for anyone who doesn’t have children. We started our adventure at the in Target Starbucks to get Hudson a cake pop, because I totally believe in bribing him for good behavior (never apologize for parenting),with his chocolate cake pop in hand we start off toward the shoe aisle. Hudson has recently (thank you flu virus) become obsessed with Paw Patrol. For those of you who don’t know Paw Patrol is a show about an 11 year old with trained talking puppies that save Adventure Bay on a daily basis because the adults that live there apparently feel it is appropriate to let a child and his pet dogs solve their problems. Anyways… as we are walking down the shoe aisle picking out shoes he finds light up Paw Patrol shoes, I knew we were done for at that moment. Luckily they had his size and after he tries them on he refuses to take them off (and they are tethered together), or try on any other shoes because and I quote the second the other shoes touch his feet “they hurt me”. Now when you have a toddler you become the master of negations. After five minutes of convincing him to remove the tied together shoes and put back on his old ones we head towards the baby clothes for Knox (yes Knox, she is female and I will address why we named her this in a later post). As my mom and I are oohing and awing over the adorable baby girls clothes Hudson has decided to wreck havoc by swinging his new shoes over his head and hitting all the clothes displays, at this point not even the cake pop can tear him away from being independent and having fun. This is one of those moments I stand there thinking to myself, “…and this is my life”. We quickly decide we have to leave Target and go home. Flash forward to bedtime, Hudson is refusing to take off his shoes and take a bath, so I again negotiate that if he is good in the bath that I will let him sleep with his new shoes. So yes I am the mom that let my 2 1/2 year old win and sleep with his new shoes, hey at least he wasn’t wearing them to bed. That is a parenting win.