Chugging my coffee down wishing I was still asleep I mull over the last week. I realized up until now I had this parenting shit down. Now this parenting shit has me down. I can’t decide if it is the emotional pint sized terrorists who are yelling for daddy as I type this. In an unnaturally high octave that even makes the dogs cringe. Or if it is the hormone fueled insane teens killing my zen. I’m in need of some spiritual enlightenment or just some really strong booze. I think my next diy project will be matching “I’m the reason mommy drinks” t-shirts for all the kids.
We did squeeze in a break from them this last weekend, thanks to my mother. Who I think may be trying for sainthood in her golden years. Or she is just a masochist. What do the parents of 6 children do when they are alone? Crazy enough it was not sleep or sex. I had a tum tum ache thanks to all the booze we consumed, so much to my husbands dismay no nookie. Yes we partied like it was 1999. Literally not like the song but like we were in our early twenties.
We attended the Elm St. Music & Tattoo Festival. Friends, music, booze, and tattoos equals one heck of a good time. And the realization that we are too old to party like it’s 1999. Several days later I am still recovering. Over the weekend I also participated in a photo shoot for next years Tattooed Hippie Pirate Mommas calendar. I’m so excited to be a part of it again this year. Last years calendar turned out amazing. A blog will be coming shortly all about it. And I will be expecting all of you to buy a calendar. It is for charity y’all! And I am in my underwear.
So like any rational parent after our weekend of debauchery I had the brilliant idea to take the children to Six Flags. No sleep, hungover, 100 degree weather, and roller coasters. Yeah you guessed it, it was miserable. We lasted a whole 3 hours.This week has been one short blur. Lots of squealing, nudity(not the fun kind), feces, more squealing, twin on twin violence, twin on Conrad violence, twin on mom violence. Okay the twins basically are violent loud shitting on the floor nudists. Adorable but completely insane.
The only thing to write home about this week would be the sudden evolution of Morgan. Morgan takes a sack lunch to school. I pack her lunch because she has dietary restrictions. And like any controlling mother I need to make sure there is more than just jello in there. Well I could not find her Van’s lunch bag so I used a Disney Princess sack.
When Morgan returned from school she exclaimed “I was so embarrassed. I had to hide it up my shirt.” She waved the offensive princess bag in the air. To which I responded “you like princesses.” I mean this kid wore a Cindrella dress for 4 months straight. She wore it under her clothes to school. It was grey when I finally tossed the thing. She yelled back “I am in the 3rd grade!”
“I am in the 3rd grade!”
And there you have it, my baby is no longer a baby. She is too old for tuck ins. I can’t remember the last time she held my hand. Wanting to be Rapunzel has now been replaced with visions of dominating the math team. I’m blaming her new found obsession with Dr. Who. Dr. Who stole my baby. After months of telling her she was now a big girl, she finally took the hint. And I want to cry. This is what it is like to be a parent.