Things You Want To Say To Your Kids, But Can’t

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We’ve all been there. That moment where we teeter on the brink of saying the worst thing ever something inappropriate to our children. We get lost in the heat of the moment. Tight lipped, we inhale sharply through our nose as we prepare to let loose on our unsuspecting, yet deserving, child. Suddenly, at the very last millisecond, we pause and rethink our words. Later we laugh at what we wanted to say versus what we actually said. So, here it is, my list of what we want to say to our kids but can’t.

1. Omg! Shut the fuck up already!
2. I swear to god, I’m going to throat punch you if you don’t stop.
3. There are days I wish your father had pulled out. This is one of them.
4. I’m about to put my foot up your ass if you don’t hurry the fuck up.
5. If you don’t eat what’s on your plate, I’m going to shove it down your throat myself.
6. If you don’t clean your room now, I’m going to burn the whole house down. Then you won’t have anything to mess up.
7. Quit acting like your fucking father!
8. Quit acting like me!
9. Holy shit! What the fuck were you thinking?
10. If you don’t do your homework, you’re going to end up an uneducated worthless piece of shit.
11. If you throw yourself on the floor one more time, I am going to throw you out the window!
12. I’m about to beat the whine out of you. Your choice.
13. Traffic, go play in it.
14. There is a black market for children, and it pays very well.
15. Fuck! Just…FUCK!!!

To those of you who just got their panties in a bunch because of this list, get over yourself. We all want to say these things. It’s 100% natural. The key point is, we don’t say them. We all get frustrated as parents it’s why we drink, and sometimes we even hate it. That’s ok. Just remember to keep your mouth shut, count to 10, and say the appropriate thing. Also, you may slip from time to time…that’s ok too.

Grey hair and Perky Boobs

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My mother is beautiful, inside and out. She has amazing skin, which is unbelievably soft, and only three grey hairs. She was truly blessed in the “aging gracefully” category of life. When she turned 60 she got her first hair. It was almost like she gave up and told Mother Nature, “Alright, fine. Go ahead and give me a grey hair, but just one. Ok?” And so it was. She has since been adding, on average, one grey hair a year. Like I said, blessed. Me, on the other hand, that’s a whole different story.

I got my first grey hair shortly before my 30th birthday. The day my daughter was born, to be exact. As I pushed my last push on March 19, 2009, out came the devil my daughter along with 10 grey hairs. Yes, I said 10…all at once. This is probably why I could actually FEEL them popping out. Ever since then my grey hair has been growing in, on average, about one every other day. I may or may not be keeping a running tally. At this point in my life, aged 36 wonderful years, I can honestly say that I am a hair dying master. It’s not that I don’t “want” grey hair, please don’t think that. I LOVED my grandmother’s hair. It was white, and shiny, and beautiful. As a kid, I used to brush it for her. I would sit there, with the brush in my hand, daydreaming of the day my hair would look like hers. So why the big upset about it now?

Remember how I said I am “aged 36 wonderful years”? That’s why. I’m ONLY 36. I’m a mom of two kids, NOT a grandmother.I have to admit that over the summer I was letting it grow! I was ready for the grey hair! I would go to bed at night excited for what I would find in the morning. Come on grey hair, show me what you got! Then it came time to go to my younger sister’s wedding. Younger means younger people everywhere at the wedding…everywhere. At the rehearsal dinner. At the ceremony. At the reception. Younger. People. Everywhere. Beautiful, sun kissed younger people from Florida. It was somewhere during the week leading up to the wedding that I was no longer ready for grey hair.

Put on the breaks! I’m getting off this ride! My vanity took control of me, and took me for a ride to Walmart to reunite with my old friend, L’Oreal. A box of dye, couple glasses of wine, and 30 minutes later…hello 25 again! Suddenly my boobs were perkier. My butt was firmer. My stomach was flatter. That’s a lie, but I did feel better about myself. So there you have it, call me vain, but I’m really not ready for all the grey hair. I’ll take the stretch marks that come with gaining weight due to child bearing, and the crows feet by my eyes, but the hair is going to have to wait.