Okay, so the other day I woke Zoey up and here’s the first thing she said. “Mom, can I make breakfast?” Part of me wanted to be like, “And make my kitchen look like Hiroshima? F**K no.” But somewhere inside my head a little voice was saying, “Let her try.” Now I don’t know about your little voices, but mine tell me to do some pretty awesome shit (that I can’t divulge here), so I like to listen to them.
ME: Sure, Zoey. Go potty first and then you can go do it.
So I want to say something. On Friday I posted a picture of my kiddo on Facebook getting his nails painted. No, that is not a typo. HIS nails.
And it got over 800 comments within a few hours, mostly from people shouting out tons of awesome support. So thank you.
So yesterday Holden forced me to watch Paw Patrol with him, and after watching it for about .2 seconds I did what I always do. I picked up my phone to check my emails. Pleeeeease let there be just one new email so I have something to read while I’m trapped on this couch watching F’ing Chase and Ryder and the rest of this stupid show. Ding ding ding, a new email!!! And it’s not just from Groupon or Gymboree! It’s from a real live person, and here’s what it said…
“I don’t know where to start with this. I’m not an ooey gooey sniffy wiffy kind of girl. At least I wasn’t until about 5 months ago. My husband & I have been married forever. We never got pregnant and we decided to adopt from foster care. We were blessed with getting a set of brothers, 4yrs & 6 months old. We were ecstatic. They seemed like great kids, no major baggage. Shortly after they came to stay with us, reality set in. I was finding myself bugged at all the feeding issues with the baby, tired of the endless questions from the 4yr old. I thought I was a horrible mother. I wasn’t bonding with these kids, I had been given the foster care lottery & was spitting in the face good fortune. Never mind the newfound tension between the hub & me.
Then I found your blog. And I bought your book. The relief I felt when I found all my frustration, and then some, in those pages was indescribable. I knew I wasn’t alone, and if a woman who carried her children felt that way, then I, an adoptive mom, was just a normal mom.“
ME: Zoey, what kind of birthday party do you want this year?
Please say an undernighter for a few friends. Please say an undernighter for a few friends.
ZOEY: I want a birthday party that no one else has had.
ME: Ummm, okayyyyy, like maybe an undernighter for just a few of your closest friends?
ZOEY: No, Elsa did that.
1. I don’t want to wipe a single ass all day. I think all kids should have to hold in their poop in on Mother’s Day. Now that would make it special.
2. I want brunch. But not with the whole frigging family. I want brunch with my other mommy friends. See ya, rug rats. Mommy’s coming back drunk on laughter and bloody marys.
3. I want to sleep in. But not with my hooligans shouting “MOMMYYYYYY!!!” at the top of their lungs and ramming one of those giant cannon thingies into the door to bust inside. To all the hubbies reading this: when the rugrats wake up, take them outside immediately. Not downstairs. OUTSIDE. That’s right, scoop them up in a football hold and rush them out the door. I’m F’ing serious. Change their diapers and their clothes on the front lawn if you have to. Just don’t let them wake my ass up.
I suck. Yup, I am 200% sure that I am doing this all wrong and that my kids are going to grow up to be drug dealing hookers or even worse, that they’re going to hate me. Like yesterday for example. Here’s allllllll the crap I did wrong yesterday:
1. I forgot to tell Zoey to brush her teeth before school (total lie, really I remembered but I was super busy and just didn’t feel like dealing).
2. I told Holden I’d play with him. Then after like five minutes I left because I had to switch the laundry over. Then I left again because I heard the squeak of the mailbox. And then I left AGAIN because the dryer dinged so I had to stop playing and fold the laundry before it got all wrinkly.
Okay, so today Zoey is getting her hair cut. Wait, no, that does not do it justice. Today Zoey is getting her hair CHOPPED OFF. Her beautiful, gorgeous, strawberry blonde hair that I lovvvvve.
Yup, she came to me last week and said she wanted to cut her hair.
1. All you gotta do is buy the girl a $4 Happy Meal at Mickey D’s and she’d pretty much agree to marry you.
AGGGHHHH, what happened this year?!! I was looking through my pictures yesterday and I came across this one and I realized it was ONLY like eight months ago and holy crap, Zoey looks sooooo much littler than she does now.
How is it possible to age that much in like eight months? Yes, it’s kind of a stupid question since I wake up every morning and I’m like how the hell do I look ten years older than I did when I went to bed last night. But I digress. Anyways, I can’t believe how fast she’s growing. Wahhh, it totally makes me want another baby. But not really.
Dear nanny talking on your cell phone,
Okay, so last Tuesday I took my kiddos to the Children’s Museum and I saw you three times that day. The first time was on our way there when I pulled up next to you at a traffic light. There you were yapping on your cell phone in the car. Now I’ll admit, there have been times that I’ve talked on my phone in the car and I know it’s the wrong thing to do, but hey, it’s not something I do every day. Or when my kids are in the car. Or EVER EVER EVER when someone else’s kid is in my car. Nevvvvvver. No phone call is worth it. But here you were yapping away with someone else’s most prized possession sitting in the backseat.
Then I pulled up to the museum and there you were again, yapping on your cell phone while you got the kiddo out of the car. I mean I was glad to see you got here accident-free and you were both safe and sound and alive but seriously, get off your stupid phone call.