After having 3 kids, I realize that I don’t really like children. Of course, I love the fruit of my loins but UGH! They get on my last nerve, daily. A few months back, Mini-Me broke up with her boyfriend (don’t worry, they’re back together so you can relax). Since I’m the mom, I have to hug her all the while, she’s blowing her disgusting snot on my shoulder and down my back. She’s old enough to blow her own nose, but no, I’m the mom so I’m the perfect substitute for a tissue. What is up with that?!?
They have an expectation that my world revolves around them. From where do they get this idea? It doesn’t matter how many times I say, “don’t disturb mom during Dr. Phil”, one of them inevitably trips down the stairs and we end up in the emergency room. For this reason alone, I now wait until Dr. Phil is over to have a glass of wine. Seriously! You don’t want to go to the ER with wine on your breath. The looks are not nice. My kids are so inconsiderate.
You know what else? My kids have this incredible ability to wake me at THE. EXACT. MOMENT. I fall asleep. It’s like they have radar. It’s because of them, napping has eluded me. Gone are the days of enjoying mimosas at brunch and then napping afterwards. Oh what a luxury. Now, I wake a 6:15AM on Saturdays (yes, I said Saturdays) and listen to those ungracious leeches sleeping in past noon. Rude. Rude. Rude.
So, as I type this, Mini-Me, The Weez and I are in the car. I think I’ll embarrass them. Wine is not available so this will have to do. Let’s blast the music, roll down the windows and dance. Yeah! Perfect idea. How’s that song go? “I’m sexy and I know it! Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, wiggle.” They’re begging me, “please, mom, no!” I’m sorry girls, it’s now an obligation. I love you.