If you’re new around here, confessions is a time for us to all unburden ourselves of the silliness we’re feeling at the moment. I share dumb things, then you share dumb things, and we all have a better day because of it.
Let’s get started!
Very few things make me more murderous than when the kids say “mom” and then don’t answer what I say “yes? what do you need”? They just stare at me with their big dumb dead “I have no respect for your time” eyes.
If you ASK FOR MY ATTENTION, THEN ACKNOWLEDGE WHEN I ANSWER YOU
There is a cute beach cottage near our house. It’s a seafoam green color and has an adorable gravel driveway. And right by the front door, they have a flag pole where they fly a black and red Slayer flag.
I love them and want to be friends with them.
My ribcage has expanded so much from having kids. Even if we wanted more kids (we don’t. Hell no), I don’t think there would be any shirts left in this world that could fit around my ribs.
Do ribcages expand so that we have more lung capacity to yell at our children? If so, mission accomplished.
You would think that Bennett has never gotten in his car seat before. Ever.
Each and every time he gets in there it is like his very first time. “Oh, I’m supposed to sit in this? You mean like with my butt on this part? I’m not supposed to stand in it? Oh, and I shouldn’t hold onto the straps EVERY TIME you try to snap them shut”?
When I go into the chicken yard and they’re all around me trying to trip me, I yell in my best Ludacris voice “move chicks, get out da way, get out da way”. I’m sure my neighbors are super impressed with my rap skills. Just like the chickens.
There is a safety gate at Bennett’s preschool that separates the playground from the sidewalk that leads to a busy road and a parking lot. There is a child lock on it that is notoriously a PITA to shut one-handed.
On the gate is a sign “for the safety of the children, please lock the gate”. And you know what? Easily 50% of the time it isn’t locked when we go through it.
The only people who go through that gate are parents, which means that 50% of parents seem to give zero craps about the safety of the children. And yeah, it sucks to do it one-handed, but I have seen moms holding tiny babies who can manage it. For FS people, lock the gate!
I sleep 100% better when Troy is gone. He snores, does this throat scratching sound that makes you want to kick the wall, and is quite disruptive to my sleep.
I miss Ambien.
Both of my kids have been somewhat picky when it comes to eating. Jack is so much better and will try all new things we offer him. Part of it is maturing, and part of it is he has learned that I am not a short-order cook and I will not make multiple meals. You don’t like dinner? No problem. You can have a big breakfast in the morning pal.
Jack has learned this the hard way over the years. Bennett is still in the midst of understanding that his mother is a hard ass. A few months ago at dinner, I made something that Bennett didn’t like and he was pitching a fit.
Jack said “buddy, trust me. This is not a road you want to go down. She doesn’t cave, she won’t break, and she’s definitely not going to make you special food. She’s not dad”. I had to choke back a laugh.
At church on Sunday our pastor asked the kids during children’s sermon what they knew about Rudolph. Most of the kids said “he has antlers” or “he has a red nose” or “he can fly”. Jack pipes up with “his reindeer friends sure got a healthy dose of karma for their behavior”.
This child. He keeps me on my toes and makes me laugh so hard. I’m also starting to think he is a bit too old to go up for the children’s sermon!
Also, if you’re wondering, the kid’s sermon about Rudolph was tied into the fact that he goes ahead of us and leads the way just like God. But it’s always a good time to have a golden rule lesson too. Don’t be a reindeer jerk face.
Ok, friends, your turn! What do you need to confess?