Today was a typical Monday. Typical bratty behavior from the kids, typical me being completely and utterly exhausted due to a long and whine-filled weekend of fitting in everything we didn’t get done DURING the week, typical making of coffee in hopes to be able to wake the hell up and function like a “normal” human being, whatever that is.
There was absolutely nothing spectacular, unusual, or extraordinary about today… other than the fact that I was completely and hopelessly out of creamer.
While I realize that coffee aficionados would say that those who TRULY love coffee can drink it without anything in it and still enjoy it… coffee aficionados can kiss my pasty ass. I like my coffee with creamer, sugar, AND milk. I don’t care if it’s bastardizing the coffee or making it flavored water with a hint of coffee- it’s what I love, and I don’t love it any other way.
Without the creamer this morning… I just couldn’t chug it like I usually do. Small sips, and only when I could manage how awful i’d made it taste by trying to substitute things for my beloved creamer, FOR SHAME! And on a Monday!!
Before I knew it I had half a cup of COLD coffee- and cold coffee is NOT iced coffee- it is disgusting. No one wants to drink hot coffee that’s gone cold (and why does it get COLD and not ROOM temperature? I could deal with room temperature).
I did something at that point I had never considered doing before… popping that half cup of cold coffee in the microwave and nuking it to make it at least slightly digestible. I NEEDED CAFFEINE, DAMNIT! DON’T JUDGE ME!
I then remembered my mom CONSTANTLY leaving coffee in the microwave intending on heating it up and forgetting to. Every single day.
I would come home from school and find black, cold, gelatinous ooze in a mug in the microwave and be completely disgusted; especially since I was the one who had to clean it. Sometimes I think she left it there on purpose, just so I would find it and have to clean it out.
I didn’t drink coffee for a VERY long time because of that. To this day, the thought of microwaving coffee gives me a full body shudder- all because of one memory from some random thing my mom did while I was growing up.
These are the kinds of memories I took along with me well into adulthood. It’s funny the things our brains choose to make into lifelong memories, and the more sentimental, or maybe even more important things it forgets about over time. If I had my choice I most certainly wouldn’t have chosen scrubbing day old cold coffee out of my mother’s mugs, that’s for damn sure.
Having to use the bathroom with the door open because I got sick of nearly being given a heart-attack when it was karate kicked open on me every time I closed it?
Will it be the fact that I pick their noses and enjoy it?
Will they remember that we always ate snacks in the middle of the living room floor and rarely ever ate a meal at a table, but always together?
Whenever they walk upstairs as an adult, will they hesitate because as children I took every opportunity that presented itself to scare the ever living fuck out of them?
Will wearing socks remind them that I NEVER wear any?
I have no idea what it is that my kids will take along with them and remember me for during random seemingly insignificant moments of their days (because during the important ones of COURSE they will think of me. I am MOMMY)- but I guess i’d better start acting more like a lady so when these memories pop into their heads they can say “Damn my mom was a classy bitch.”
Every. Single. Time. pic.twitter.com/aAAWWjdrN3
I'm either "I HAVE 3 FRIES LEFT DON'T TOUCH MY PLATE!" or "Please take this so I can't eat any more of it!" There is no in-between.
Dear people writing articles on ways to get siblings to get along, I'll save you the time. The answer is "Don't let them play together"
Please stop Complimenting my kids’ “Good” Behavior goo.gl/fb/rwfojS
Hard pass from me pic.twitter.com/VayvW1eopK
I've gotten to the point where I'd let my kids summon a demon with a Ouija board before I'd let them play Monopoly together again.