He’s super-personable, never shies away from any social situation, meanwhile, I avoid other humans like the plague. He loves school and and is sad when it’s summertime, when I couldn’t wait for it to end. He is a MORNING PERSON. I’m not even an afternoon person. He wears socks to bed. He can’t take a joke to save his damn life and that’s basically all I do, and most days, I swear he just doesn’t get me. Seven years and you’d think he’d kind of know how things are around here, how I am, how I react to the things he does, the kind of mood I’m in from day to day by the level of resting-bitch on my face. But no.
Even though I saw him ploop out of me covered in my insides, I can’t help but question if I brought home the wrong kid from the hospital. If perhaps he was body-snatched in his bed by aliens during the night and the kid in my house is just the shell of my kid but the inside is an imposter. MAYBE he’s some weird kind of clone. It kind of kicked me in the gut a bit. This kid I carried, birthed, spent all day every day with- and other than physicalities, is nothing like me? NOTHING? REALLY? I got nothing?? Not a laugh, or a quirk, or even an aversion? What a rip off! I didn’t have children to NOT have mini versions of myself, I mean, come on!
It always happens that, just as I’m considered calling the authorities and telling them the hospital made a grave mistake by switching my child at birth– the kid does something so intuitive, so incredibly insightful, so ME that there is no denying that he is my crotchfruit. Not even if he wanted to deny it, could he. Not that he’d want to, I mean, I am pretty great at this whole parenting thing (STOP LAUGHING).
Yesterday, I was tired. Not just the regular run-of-the-mill “can’t stop yawning” kind of tired, but the level of tired where I was grumpy, nodding off, back hurt, brain hurt, no amount of caffeine was pulling me from my funk kind of tired. All I really want to do was sleep, but damn things called “responsibilities” were keeping me from being able to do so. That’s what I get for staying up too late streaming on Twitch like I’m all young & shit when I clearly can’t hang. I CAN’T HANG! THERE! I SAID IT!
I guess Parker must have picked up on my exhaustion (or, I guess it could have been my attitude coupled with the fact that I kept saying “I AM SO TIRED!”) because he made what is the single most amazingly ME suggestion he’s ever made… especially for a kid who doesn’t GET me.
“Mommy, if you’re so tired, why don’t you go crawl in bed, watch some TV and eat chips?”
WHAT? DID HE JUST SAY THAT? Suddenly, this little stranger with no sense of humor wandering my house knew me better than I knew myself. That is EXACTLY what I wanted to do, and I had no idea until I heard him say it.
This kid, with my eyes, my hair, my chin, my long gangly limbs, who is absolutely nothing like me… is definitely mine.
We’re in there, y’all. Sometimes way deep down. Sometimes hidden behind our partner’s faces and personalities. Sometimes lying dormant and making us believe that we’ve been duped–we are there! It’s kind of terrifying.
@Julieannefiu I still sing WRAPPED UP LIKE A DOUCHE. I think they're lying about the "real" lyrics
I sang SO many embarrassingly wrong song lyrics with such confidence. pic.twitter.com/Ww5TaAxY3r
@AndreaPerez0217 Not that I'm biased, but I highly recommend ;) Hope you enjoy!
Parenthood: you think it's gonna be all hugs & booboo kisses, but it's really cooking food everyone hates & scraping boogers off of walls.
School system: Here! Have a half day on Friday the 13th! Me: pic.twitter.com/Dy18C8R3dD
Spooking the Kids Without Scarring them for LIFE With Netflix! (and a giveaway!) goo.gl/fb/tkeWgB