Tag Archives: mommy

I want my mommy


That’s not Evan talking, it’s me, the alleged grown-up in the house. Some days I just want to be the 4 year old. I really do. I want to say heck with all this responsibility nonsense. I want to wail and moan and have my mommy make it all better. That day was today.

If one more person throws food…

If one more person jumps in bed with me pre-dawn begging to play Scrabble (wtf?!)…

If one more person empties out every lower cabinet and drawer in the kitchen and bathroom…

If one more person acts a fool in the grocery store…

If one more person drops a full sippy cup of milk on my bare foot…

If one more person asks the same question 82 times…

…then I’ll know I still have the best job in the world. Because I answer every question and I bandage every boo-boo (even my own) and I scrape discarded food off the walls and out of Bailey’s fur and I like it. But tonight I am tired, I am bleary-eyed and a few hours past the reasonable and acceptable distance between two showers. Without a doubt, life is good and once I’ve decided that no one is being put on craigslist today, I can deal with the rest. I have two beautiful sleeping babies upstairs and the condition of my manicure is my receipt for this day, paid in full. They put me through it and I lived to tell. I came, I saw, I conquered two small children and a tub of Nutella.




An early Sunday morning conversation between Evan and Mommy (who is still in bed):

E: “Wake up! According to my clock, it’s time to get up.”

Me: “What time is it?”

E: “It’s 8 o’clock.”

(Fast forward 10 minutes. I oblige, we get up and go downstairs.)

Me: “E! It’s only 7:30!”

E: “I know, but this is what time I get up for school, and since it’s getting close I need to start getting used to it.”

Me: stunned silence

Really? He played me big time. He’s only been on this planet 4.75 years, but his reasoning, time-telling and manipulation skills (among others) are just ridic.