My Ass Hurts!

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PITA

Yes, you read that correctly. My ass, does in fact hurt! Why does my ass hurt? I will gladly explain what is causing my ass pain.

Child 1 : Likes to fight with Child 2. Loves to leave dirty laundry on the floor. Hates to share video games. Doesn’t enjoy eating vegetables. Forgets everything. I am not exaggerating on this one, like EVERYTHING!

Child 2: Also enjoys fighting with Child 1. Loves to change into as many outfits as she can in a day. She like to go through my closet to try on my shoes and scuff them. She hates to share. She doesn’t really play with anything. She likes to do things but not play. She would like to employ me as a personal¬†masseuse or entertainment to be ready at her disposal. Loves to spend most of her time setting something up and then abandoning the project. For example, she will pull out tables, blankets, toys, clothes to set up a pretend store, but before she actually plays, gets bored, abandons the idea and leaves the mess. ūüė¶

Child 3: She enjoys crying and whining. She loves to ask for things in that sing song whining voice. EEEK!!! She also enjoys changing clothes and often protests getting left out of what Child 2 is doing. She like to secretly write on the walls and then pretend it wasn’t her, even thought it says her name. She hates to use the bathroom and needs to be dragged to use the facilities. She much rather hold it in until she explodes.

Child 4: She like to eat, eat & eat again. When I cut her off, she cries, cries and cries. She has a cry and scream that can probably speak to the whales in the depth of the sea. She likes to get into things she isn’t suppose to, especially something that is important to Child 1, 2 or 3. She enjoys spilling toys on the floor and then running away. She also enjoys changing her clothes, but when I need her to be dressed she lays limp, not wanting to participate in getting dressed. Go figure.

All of this going on simultaneously can be a real pain in my ass. I love them, I truly do. These people are the air that I breathe and my purpose in life, but sometimes they can be real assholes. I have decided to express to my husband that I am at my wits end. These kids are a bunch of assholes. He simply sips his coffee, unfazed and replies, “I blame it on the parents.” ¬†ūüė¶

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Thank you for listening to my rant, again! ūüôā

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The People I Live With

I’m worn down. Underneath my nose is chapped and raw, as I take in a series of short breaths.¬† My eyes are watery, my bones are achy and worst of all, I can’t taste my coffee.¬† My symptoms come as no surprise, just proof of the affection I have received from the people I live with.¬† These same people have been screaming and whining throughout the house, like a sword slicing through my ear drums.¬† They have been arguing and fighting, tumbling down to the floor, vibrating the walls. I am forced to live with people that are slobs, leaving piles of their¬†things everywhere,¬†dishes in the sink and a trail of dirty laundry.¬†Sharing a bathroom with them¬†has become intolerable, toothpaste on the vanity, paper on the floor, and¬†you can¬†almost always count on a surprise¬†waiting in the toilet.¬†¬†I live¬†with an¬†inconsiderate bunch, just when I sit, they ask for a favor.¬† Just when I take my first bite, they beg for seconds.¬† I cohabitate with the most unorganized¬†group of people you could imagine.¬† The moment they put anything down, its lost!¬† Better yet, they rely on my ability to see before they are able to use anything. These people¬†have¬†no consideration for boundaries and what belongs exclusively to me. They are constantly asking for help, always needing, always wanting.

Just when I decide, “I’ve had enough, I’m going to find a new place to live,” they widen their adorable little eyes, reach their tiny little arms around my neck and call me “mommy.”

Although they aren’t the ideal housemates, I do love them anyway!

It has just been a rough day!