Ten things not to F’ing tell me
1. Don’t tell me my kids are growing up so fast. No shit Sherlock. I’m like Zappos’s best customer on earth. And every time you tell me, it drives the stake into my heart a little more.
2. Don’t tell me I’m buckling my car seats wrong. If you don’t tell me how to buckle my car seats, I won’t tell you you’re an annoying shartrag.
3. Don’t tell me I should cherish every moment. Because when my douchenugget is screaming his head off and super-glueing himself to the floor in the cereal aisle because I won’t buy him Sugary Boogery O’s, the moment I cherish is when he goes to sleep later and I can sit on the couch and drink wine.
4. Don’t tell me I look tired. Duhh, I’m not blind. I look in the mirror and I don’t have bags under my eyes. I have the whole F’ing luggage aisle from Target.
5. Don’t ask me to buy into whatever pyramid schemey product you’re selling. Lotions, makeup, diets, drinks, jewelry, bags, Tupperware, books, oils, rags, vitamins, Jamberry, meals, facials, or whatever the F you’re peddling. If you want to host a party and feed me free wine, awesome. But if you want me to bring my checkbook and earn you a pink Cadillac, the wine ain’t free and I buy my shit at Target.
6. Don’t tell me your kids are good sleepers. Mine are not. Which makes me grumpy and volatile and I can’t promise I won’t do something really bad if you piss me off.
7. Don’t tell me I look old enough so you don’t need to see my i.d. People who ask for my i.d. get tips. People who don’t ask for my i.d. get the middle finger.
8. Don’t ask me if I want more children. Yes I do… every time I walk through the baby section and see a pair of teeny-tiny high-tops or an itty-bitty ruffly bathing suit.
9. Don’t tell me it only gets harder. This parenting thing is hard as shit, and the last thing I need is you saying “heyyyy it’s just gonna suck more!”
10. Don’t ask me if I’m preggers. I’m not. I just had a burrito for lunch.
And don’t forget to subscribe to my blog because Facebook doesn’t always show it to people!! I swear it only sends you an email when I put up a new post, which is not very often. Because I’m lazy. And tired. And busy raising little rugrats.
Don’t tell me to eat a sandwich because I’m too thin. I would never dream of telling them not to eat that sandwich because they are too fat!
Right? I once had someone ask if I had gotten punched in the face because my bags were so dark. No asshole I’m weaning my monster of a 13 month old and shits real hard
It doesn’t get harder. It also doesn’t get easier. It just gets different.
Nailed it, as usual!
Quit saying “you’re KIDDING”. When i say something like ‘I just wanted to let you know my Mom passed away this morning”. You’re an adult not a seven year old. AND quit with the coy way of asking me who I’m seeing, how much i make, when I’m going to remodel, get a car, start excersizing. MYOB.
I have 4 kids (all boys) and people say to me ALL THE TIME “I don’t know how you do it!”. I just do it f-ers! I don’t have a choice!
I also have twins, and there’s probably not enough space here to list the stupid s**t people have said to me about twins over the years! One of my favorites is “You have twins? My mom/aunt/dad/cousin/toaster is a twin!” OK. Cool?
Lmfao! Toaster!
I have twins too–the most fraternal set of twins you ever saw. One is actually taller than the other, they wear different sizes, one is husky while the other is super-skinny…the list goes on and on. My favorite remark is (while they’re standing right there): “Oh–they’re twins? Are they identical?”
What do YOU think, Sherlock? #HeresYourSign
Stop making me snort my drink out my nose! I should know not to read you when I’m drinking but I never learn.
Preach. Also, don’t tell me you miss this “time”. That is a f*****g ninja comment that makes me feel simultaneously pissed, sentimental and guilty. No one needs that s**t.
HAHAHAHAHA 100% accurate!!!
lol I love this. My oldest is 18 in 6 weeks and (Please God everything goes well for her) will be going to Uni next year. The idea of her going away is too hard to believe, but she’s still a teenager who drives me f’ing insane to the point that I’m willing for the year to pass…..terrible mother I know and DON’T care. My youngest is 14, 2 teenage girls what were we thinking…., parenting is hard, no matter how old your kids are.