One Morning, 5 confessions, Happy Hump

Confessions of a Teenage Looking Drama Mom through which you can forget about that homemade cork board on Pinterest and feel better about yourself at my expense.

Pardon the typos as my fingers are bloody and dawning band aids with teddy bear and hearts, which are quite literally my two least favorite objects on the face of the planet but picking out band aids is a childhood privilege.

1. The morning began with aspirations higher than the laundry pile so I began there. As I folded tiny shirts and tinier dresses, the oldest requested my assistance with toilet paper and his derriere. The girls playing wildly with items too clean for their hands seemed occupied well enough to walk 5 steps for approximately 30-35 seconds to help their big brother with his toddler problem. James explained that he “pooped a lot, just like a big horse,” an image that aided my coffee and cereal to digest with ease and comfort. As the toilet flushed the baby’s left foot disappeared into the dryer as Josie attempted to shut the door with a giggle and a wave. We practiced saying “no put Rita in the dryer,” approximately 5 billion times after that.

2. Step two of attempted productivity: clean the master bath. Events included Rita biting off the head of the duck soap, Josie dipping her head into the toilet, the entire contents of every single feminine product being dumped and thrown and stacked and as they asked, “but what are these for and why cant we eat them?” The good news is I salvaged most of the soap from the baby’s mouth.

3. As we continued to de-clutter in the family room, James confidently studded in my general direction holding a chewed up tomato found in between the couch cushions. “Do you think we should throw this away, Mom?” he asked. How long had it been there? Years for all I know.

4. After discarding of what I’m guessing Josie thought was a ball of red candy, I began to grate zucchini to make bread. While cooking with toddlers is usually full of organization and cleanliness, it becomes much worse when the mother begins to bleed a generous amount from two fingers on her right hand. The grater and me = a bad mix of clumsiness and blades.

It was there in the baking process that I should have seen green zucchini turned red and stopped. Alas, I taped up my fingers with bad images of fake romance (explained above) and braved the teaspoon holding toddlers hands on baking lesson. Moments later, tired of a dash of cinnamon here and a help mommy pour the flour there, a few too many ounces of dish soap was happily poured into the wet ingredients as she exclaimed, “blue!!!!” At least I didn’t accidentally burn it?

5. I believe I’ve already confessed about the language issues in this household, namely the phrase “damn it,” being used by James at appropriate times and with emphatic intonation. I have, in all sincerity, attempted to remediate my bad habit, but sometimes, swearing happens just like something else also best described with use of a bad word. Well, the bad habit has been successfully passed on to the younger one, who happened to exclaim not only “damn it!” but also attached “Josie!” to the phrase on three separate occasions this morning, which had to with the bloody fingers, the tomato, and the soap, revealing the most frequent use and word grouping used by those that love her most.

Happy Mothering!