I cannot be alone on this. I just can’t.
Any moms out there wake up and just be like, “what fun can I create for my kids today?”
You think, man, I’m going to make sure my kids have a good ass day.
I'm going to take them somewhere to play, they are going to be so happy.
I’m going to be smiling watching these beautiful little souls play their hearts out, and on the way home we are going to get in the car & they will thank me for being so wonderful and we will express our love for each other as mother and child.
That’s literally how I picture “fun days” in my house and Satan proves me wrong.. Every. Fucking. Time.
I don’t even know why I leave my house to be honest...because this is how my day goes...
The children wake up and I announce that today will be a fun day.
The fun day will consist of their favorite park and ice cream before the twins have their Occupational Therapy.
The following hours before leaving the house are filled with threats of not doing any fun shit because nobody will eat lunch, clean up toys, and won’t stop fighting with each other.
After multiple threats and dreading going, we still go.
THE MOMENT we get in the car, every child is magically hungry?!
Like oh, the 14 grilled cheese sandwiches I spent cooking over the stove for an hour, cut up veggies from our nonexistent garden, and fresh-squeezed Minute Maid lemonade with 8 cups of sugar wasn’t enough?
Possibly because it’s still sitting on the damn table?!
So, me being me, already knew this shit was going to happen, so I throw a Nutri-grain bar at every kid and tell them I brought no drinks so they will have to suffer.
We finally get to the park and my van is reading 98 degrees of pure fiery hell outside.
I don’t even want to get out because I’m exhausted from the time in my house before even leaving.
So what happens at the fun park day you ask?
The twins play on the big kid side and I’m watching while I have the babies on the swings.
Lilah wants to get off the swings so I have to bring Micah with me too.
I’m still watching the twins about 10 feet away from me playing with other kids.
Lilah and Micah are on the toddler slide and entertaining themselves.
I figured, hey, I will try to survive the deadly heat and sit and smile while watching these beautiful humans I created playing.
So, two seconds of smiling, Micah brings me something in his hand.
He doesn’t talk so he speaks in grunts, screams, shrieks, and cries.
So, he does his little proud shriek and I’m thinking like, “Omg, did Satan himself really just bring me a flower?”
Nope. Fucking. Nope.
This child brought me a piece of dog shit.
Fresh dog shit.
Smeared right on my knee.
Guess who forgot baby wipes?
Not sure what I was planning on doing if my own child shit but there I am.
Sitting on a bench with dog shit on my knee and Micah’s hand.
So, I literally run to the fountain and try my best to wipe this shit off.
Luckily I bring home a ton of stuff from work in my scrub pockets so I have like 100 alcohol wipes in the van and I’m literally scrubbing our skin off.
Run back to where the kids are and see the twins playing.
Not on the swings, not on the slide, nowhere. So now I’m physically ill from the dog shit and thinking someone stole my favorite child and I’m almost in tears until I hear her laugh coming from the tunnel.
I stick my head in the tunnel about to kiss her face off for being so good and not running away until a MOTHA FUCKING SQUIRREL runs out of the tunnel towards my face from where she was.
Like I’m rubbing shit off of me and my son and my daughter is just Snow White-ing it up in the tunnel.
I literally started having heart palpitations and she’s crying because I “scared the squirrel away.”
I’ll gladly accept the meanest mom in the world award.
So I’m covered in sweat.
Sweat sweat sweat.
My kids are deranged animals playing with feces and forest animals and I’m yelling for the twins to come back so we can skip this shit and get to the ice cream.
As I’m yelling for them, I look up and they found a group of kids they were playing with and I thought, well, they are having fun, might as well give them a few minutes.
After all, they were being good.
They weren’t being good y’all.
They literally were playing with some badass kids whose parents must belong to a cult and drink blood for dinner right after sacrificing a neighbor because these kids were playing “cut off your face.”
A group of kids running around with the sharpest sticks to be found, one kid actively sharpening his stick on the rock (actually impressive), all to catch one child and...I don’t know... CUT THEIR FACE OFF?!
All I knew was, my kid wasn’t catching anyone, they were going to be the ones caught and I like their fucking faces.
So I grab all those little sticks and found all their parents and told on ALL THEY ASSES.
So, we get into the hottest van ever, I’m drenched in sweat still, knee smells like a dog’s ass, daughter crying because she wants a pet squirrel now, boys crying because I turned into a psychopath asking what kind of game is “cut your face off?!”
This is usually how fun days end.
In regret and tears.
On both ends.
My end more.
So here I am, at their therapy appointment, wishing I had a drink and trying to decide which vegan fast food restaurant (Wendy’s Or Taco Bell) to get for dinner.
Because I ain’t mommin' the rest of today.
Many cuss words were said today.
Annnnnnnnnd, that’s some #seriousmomshit
Pray for me, I got 4 kids too many.
Originally posted on Serious Mom Shit
PS: If you want a tribe that gets you, join us at The Best Mom Life