“Did you seriously just put your dirty clothes right NEXT to the laundry basket and not inside of it?” I literally feel like I say this to my husband every single day. Don’t mind me: I just spent all day doing everyone’s laundry, and he puts his dirty, sweaty man clothes BESIDE the laundry basket, because two more steps surely would have broken his back or crippled him.
“Will you please just eat your food and stop playing in it?” Oh little boys. Little boys are so WILD. Just plain wild. No one warns you in the baby books how feral they become when they reach about eight months old. You, as the wild child’s mother, WILL always have food in your hair; it’s inevitable. You will also always have to change the nastiest diapers because daddy’s stomach “just can’t handle it.”
“Can you please just take a nap for Mommy?” The crying never stops. You hear it when you go to sleep. It haunts your dreams. You don’t need to set an alarm because you already know that in a few hours, one of the undomesticated children will be waking you while your husband peacefully slumbers. Do you ever seriously contemplate pushing your significant other off of the bed when you are awake feeding the baby? I do. Every single night.
“Let’s go change your clothes for the third time today.” Sometimes, I feel it would be very beneficial to put my children in bubbles. Then maybe, we wouldn’t have so much laundry. I swear that I change their outfits three times a day, maybe more. Someone is always puking, pooping, peeing, spitting up, or bleeding. (The bleeding is just part of having a fearless little boy that climbs on everything and thinks he is invincible.) Children are just plain gross sometimes. I don’t trust my new clothes around them. They are like little ticking time bombs ready to explode with no notice whatsoever.
“Please don’t put that Puff in your ear. You eat it. Like this. See? Nom. Nom. Nom.” Once again, little boys. They put food in weird places. Then spit it at you when you show them how to eat properly. I like to imagine that one day, when he is married, he does this to his wife, and it makes me laugh uncontrollably. I also hope he leaves his laundry on the floor for her so she can feel my pain. Just kidding. I’ll teach him to be a gentleman. But for now, he is SO far from being tamed.
“Did you poop?! I literally just changed your diaper.” Ahh. The double trouble, as I like to call it. It’s when you just change a diaper and not even five minutes later you smell the dookie in the new diaper that you just put on. I get DT’s every morning. I’ll change the overnight diaper, give MULB (my undomesticated little boy) a bottle, and then make my coffee. And you know what? That loveable little shit always poops when I am trying to drink my hot coffee. EVERY single morning. Sometimes it’s 9 a.m. Sometimes it’s 7 a.m. He has the timing DOWN. As soon as that glorious coffee cup touches my lips, it’s like his little internal poop clock alarm goes off. I haven’t had a cup of hot coffee in two years. Even my Yeti can’t compete that boy’s poop clock.
“Can you change the diaper before you feed her, please?” Okay. This one I will never understand. My husband will (70% of the time) change the baby’s diaper AFTER he feeds her. Like what in the actual hell? How does that even makes sense? If you change it before you feed her, and then she falls asleep while eating, BOOM. Sleeping baby AND a clean diaper. It’s a win-win, fo’ sho! But he thinks it’s better to feed her, get her to fall asleep, and then change her? Good lord, I do love my husband, but c’mon dude. I seriously think he does it on purpose so that I will just get mad and end up taking over.
“Babe, can you go warm up the bottle?” Oh man. This one is my absolute favorite. At 3 a.m., this is literally like asking your husband to go to Africa and wrestle a lion. I swear I’m going to invent a mattress with a built-in bottle warmer and a wine cooler. Shark Tank, here I come.
P.S. All mom’s deserve their own island… Filled with lots of alcohol, awesome music, NO men, and no stress. We are the glue that holds it all together. We have the nastiest, craziest, and most rewarding job on the planet… My hat’s off to ALL of you, ladies. You rock.
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