My sister-in-law said to me one day that she knows 2 kinds of people; The first kind are young moms and the second are too drunk to find their phone. Then she met me and realized there's a third kind. Apparently I'm too drunk to find my kids.
Most of the time I'm a responsible twenty-something mom who works a full time job and spends every waking hour trying to meet the unrealistic expectations of the modern mom.
Other times I try to live like the other half. The carefree post college people I know that get to spend their hungover Sundays sleeping in, having #brunch & watching Netflix in bed. The only interruption, which would come as a ringing cell phone, is as easy to get rid of as a swipe of a finger to ignore. Oh, the sleep I could have!
But not me! No sir! Saturday night I went to a work thing and Sunday morning I was up at 9. When you have kids that is a prime sleep in experience ladies & gents! I was off to locate my car and pick up P by 9:30. I then spent my day assisting in the killing of Bowser in Super Mario World, making every kind of food she could come up with (blah!), painting, playing Barbies & getting an up-do. I will be looking into hair plugs due to how much was removed from my head.
Sundays are my kid days so why would that be any different? Mommy doesn't feel good because mommy thinks she's 19 still isn't a valid excuse and besides, I miss her during the week. At one point she informed me I smelled funny and grabbed my hand, leading me off to the washroom and told me to shower. She serves it straight up.
This whole day I spent wondering if I'm too old for this shit or I'm too young to be a parent? That was about the time I was trying to convince her to "just let Mommy have some quiet time on the couch". Yeah, nope! It became a game of see if we can get Mommy to scream. Spoiler alert: I screamed. Loudly.
After a lot of Advil, greasy food, multi-vitamins & approximately a tanker truck full of water, we had a great day even though I felt like that same tanker truck ran me over. I'd say this will never happen again but let's face it, it will. And I'll whine more that the kids do when we walk down the ice cream isle at the grocery store. More than my "husband" with a man-cold. But next time, I'll officially be a quarter-century so it may hurt even more.
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