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A few things I never thought I’d say before becoming a mom…

STOP trying to get the dog to smell your butt.

No, that’s not funny if you try and toss the dog. Would you like someone to do that to you?

No. I don’t need your help with the dog. (As he was getting a haircut)

If you break your butt jumping from that, dads not going to be happy.

If you don’t do your homework, I wont let you watch Doctor Who. (This is surprisingly effective. Thanks, Doctor!)

I’m sure there will be more to come and I’m sure there are some I’m
forgetting. Its also 2am and I’m kindle posting. So. Yeah. Goodnight!

Its that time again folks.

Have a good one! 

Ghosts pooping. Yeah.

It’s a Monday.

Gettin’ back into the swing of things…

Hells yeah, folks. It’s that time again.. time of wonder and awesomeness. Time of quiet mornings drinking a cuppa tea, enjoying your breakfast without having to utter things like,”No, you’re not going to have ice cream for breakfast.”

“No, I won’t bake you a cake because you hit your toe.”

“Please, don’t try to fart on the dog.”

“I understand grandma lives in California, but she’ won’t get here in time to save you from being in the corner. Sorry.”

You know what time it is folks?

They’re the three best words ever spoken, baby. Don’t get me wrong, I love my kid. I do.  She’s awesome, she’s a smart ass ( I wonder where she got that from?), and well, she’s a dork. (I blame her father.)  But there’s something about her in the summer that makes me want to pull my bottom lip over my head and try and swallow. Truth.  If you’re not constantly entertaining her, its the worst thing ever. You’re a horrible person! She’s! SO! BORED!

Ugh.

How bummed was I that her new school made me go buy her own school supplies.  Yeah, let that sink in for a moment.  Locally, all the children go to one kindergarten.  Just one big building of kindergarteners, I don’t know how they do it, but they do it, and they do it well. Personally, I’d lose my damn mind, but that’s me. Well, anyways, I got lost here, let me get back on point.  The kindergarten place that Cinderella went to last year? They totally buy the supplies for you! HOW FRIGGING AWESOME IS THAT?! All you do is fork over like $40.00 and boom. DONE. I was in lazy person heaven, buddy let me tell you. Signed her up for kindergarten, paid the peoples their money, and damn, I was *done*.  Mother of the year! WOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

This year? I HAD TO DO THIS  SHIT MYSELF. What the poop, yo?

Honestly, I’m making it sound bad.  Only, it was TWENTY TIMES WORSE. I had to go to that store. You know the one.  The one that boasts of always low prices, and fantastic people that work there. You know the place… THE HOUSE OF LIES. That’s where we went. Yeah, I took the kid with me. If I have to suffer…EVERYONE SUFFERS. I’m one of those people that is insanely early for everything. Lets put it this way, the meet the teacher thing to figure out what class she was in this year? We were AN HOUR EARLY.  Oh, did I mention its like down the street? Literally like 3 blocks away.  Momma was a little excited. BITE ME. (Prince Charming? He was beyond annoyed, but you know what? He deals.  Probably because I took him out to eat afterwards. I’m cool like that.)

The afternoon of the first day of school, Cinderella brought home a questionnaire. A “Who am I” type questionnaire that her teacher made that’s about Cinderella. In the “is there anything else I need to know about your kid” question I wrote: Cinderella is a chatterbox. You’ll have to be strict about this, else she will do nothing but talk.

Pretty straight forward right?

We’ve been in school for three weeks already, and in those three weeks? Cinderella has been in trouble three (possibly four because I won’t know about this last Friday until I see the papers on Tuesday) times.  Like I actually had to sign a paper each time that said she got in trouble for talking. I’ve talked to  her about this..”Oh, I won’t do that again!” Next day? Talking.  This is gonna be a long year. A very…long year.

Thirty. Thirttttty….Thirty. It still doesn’t seem right.

Well, folks.

It’s happened. Something unbelievable. Something so horrendous, it’s just unimaginable that I could even write it out here and not immediately fall faint, it’s just that bad.

I’ve left my 20s behind and am now 30 years old.

Did the Earth shudder when you read that? If so, that was me fainting all dramatic like…again. I’m sure my husband is good and tired of that by now. (Shut up!)  How in hell did I get this old, man?  I never in my life thought I’d get to this age, to be honest.  No, I didn’t think I’d die in some odd death, it just never occurred to me that there was more years behind that whole 18 year old thing. Wait, that doesn’t sound right, does it? I mean, I knew there were ages after 18 and all that.  I was just to indifferent to aging to notice,”Oh, holy hell, I’m an adult!”  It snuck up on me, I admit it. (Yes, my hair may be black, but in spirit, it’s blonde.)

The funny thing is, I don’t see how I let it sneak up. I’m a stay at home mom with a five year old. (Holy crap, she’s going to be six soon. *facepalm*)

Could be worse.  I have a cousin* that is absolutely heartbroken when she has a birthday. EVERY. SINGLE. YEAR. I have my moments, true, but every year?  Nah.. I’m too lazy for that kinda break down. When I break down, I’m going to make it worth it, buddy. EVERYONE’S going to know. *snicker*

I think the point of this post is:  I really need to get my head out of my ass.

*If my cousin ever finds this, and ends up reading this, she’s probably going to murderize me. Doubt she’ll find it…SO DON’T BE GOING AND TELLIN’ HER DAMMIT.