Some women brag about being able to fit into the jeans they wore in highschool. I like to brag that I can destroy my children’s entire day by asking them to take the bag of Goldfish back to the kitchen. Or by asking them what they want for breakfast. Or by telling them it’s time to brush their teeth. Or by reminding them to flush the toilet. Or by telling them to eat their dinner before they die. Or just by saying “Good Morning.”
My kids aren’t bad kids. They’re not (completely) spoiled brats. They do chores (sometimes WITHOUT immediately asking to be paid). They say please and thank you. But they’re kids, and kids are assholes.
We try to be decent parents and teach them to clean up after themselves like decent human beings, but it always seems to go the same way
Me: Can you take the bag of Goldfish back to the kitchen where you got it?
Me: Seriously. You brought it out, you’re done, so return it
Kid: *heavy sigh*
Me: I’m serious. Get up and take it back
Kid: *makes sounds more obnoxious than nails on a chalkboard*
Kid: *finally gets up to return the stupid Goldfish while muttering about me being “mean”*
They use this word “mean” like it’s offensive to us, like it will make us feel bad, like we will hear it and suddenly be like “OMFG I’M SO SORRY FOR BEING MEAN TO YOU, FLUFFY! PLEASE, SMEAR YOUR GOLDFISH INTO MY COUCH AND LEAVE IT, I’LL TAKE CARE OF IT LATER!”
They’re wrong. I wear the “Mean Mommy” title like a badge of honor. I’m not here to be your maid, or your servant, or your BFF. I’d love to be friends, but it isn’t at the top of my priority list. Helping you children become functioning adults who aren’t total dickholes is at the top of the list, after making sure you’re fed, and clean.
Yes. We’re so mean. Because we don’t want roaches or rats or over-priced food to go bad. Mean because we don’t like smelling days-old pee in the toilet because for SOME REASON flushing is beyond the depths of their comprehension. SUPER DUPER MEAN because we’d like them to some day be able to attract a mate and move the fuck out of our houses and they won’t be able to do that if they’re disgusting slobs with crusty-pee toilets. WE’RE JUST TRYING TO HELP YOU! AND OURSELVES! BUT MOSTLY YOU!
And also- flush the damn toilet.
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.