That Time of Day

There is a "children's" book for adults called, "Go the F**k to Sleep" by Adam Mansbach. This book partly inspired me to start this blog, as Adam was a parent brave enough to say, yeah, my kids drive me batty at bedtime and wrote a book about about with the F word in it that was at once hilarious and an anthem for beleaguered parents everywhere. Many of you know this book but for those who have not had the pleasure, please enjoy this sample:

"The windows are dark in the town, child.

The whales huddle down in the deep.

I’ll read you one very last book if you swear

You’ll go the fuck to sleep

All the kids from day care are in dreamland.

The froggie has made his last leap.

Hell no, you can’t go to the bathroom.

You know where you can go? The fuck to sleep

The cubs and the lions are snoring,

Wrapped in a big snuggly heap.

How is it you can do all this other great shit

But you can’t lie the fuck down and sleep?"

Now this type of humor may not be for everyone, but it's right up my alley. What parent cannot relate to this scenario of a child not going to bed at his scheduled time? It's the only time of day where parents reclaim the house and have the ever coveted peace-and-quiet. Watch a TV show without interruption, check email without interruption, have a complete thought, you guessed it, without interruption.

Maybe you could even have sex with your partner! Wouldn't that be grand?! Its 9pm; you've both worked 8+ hours, made dinner, gave baths, picked up the house that looks like a tornado swept thru even though you just picked up 2 HOURS AGO, wrangled kids to bed for 45 minutes and now for the 1st time all damn day you have a moment to yourself. Feeling sexy?? FUCK NO you're not. You're exhausted. You're pissed that you're exhausted. You would LOVE to have sex with your partner! But in the 1st 30 seconds of you sinking into the couch sans kids, your body taps out. Your mind is frazzled. As you blearily stare at the TV, all you can think of is that project at work, that deadline you need to meet, those bills your need to pay. You feel your partner sitting next to you; they are in a similar state of delirium. You cuddle up to one another, comforted in the mutual understanding of the situation. And instead of sharing a passionate kiss that turns into hot sex, you fall asleep together, only waking when one of you starts snoring.

Silence is NOT golden

We've all heard that "Silence is Golden." Well I'm here to tell you it is not. Ask any parent and they will tell you that when the house falls quiet, a terrifying chill runs down their spine and sweat breaks out on their forehead. A parent will not enjoy the moment of peace because as their eyes widen they are thinking , "What are those little fuckers DOING?!"

The parent immediately drops what they are doing; the dishes, a phone call, nursing a small child and runs, yes, RUNS to the last place their children were seen "playing", which is no longer taking place. Silence.Is.Deadly.

What proverbial shit has hit the fan in the 4 minutes they were alone? Sometimes the shit isn't proverbial but literal. Literally smeared all over their pink tiny bodies and rubbed into crevices you will never be able to reach. Did they get into your makeup drawer in the bathroom even though there is a "childproof" cover on the doorknob (that the kids can easily manipulate but you can never work the damn thing) and squirt your liquid blush all over the carpet? Did they somehow get a hold of a pen and draw all over the couch even though you are a Pen Nazi and there are NO PENS WITHIN A CHILDS REACH IN THE ENTIRE HOUSE! Perhaps they are going through the DVD drawer and have taken out approximately 27 DVD's and are playing frisbee with them or using them to glide across the carpet?

And all of this happend not while you were trying to sneak a quite moment to yourself (haha, that's so cute of you to think that's even possible!) but while you were filling the kitchen sink to do the flippin dishes. A house with children should not be a quiet one. If it is, you need to check your fan; because I think the shit just hit it.

Now don't get me wrong....

Hello dear reader! I am flattered you stopped by.

So let's get this out of the way right now: I do not REALLY hate my kids (who, as of this post are 4.5 yrs and 2 yrs). I just kinda hate them. Sometimes.

That's not something a mother is supposed to think, let alone say! What kind of mother am I?? Well, maybe I shouldn't have had them in the 1st place!! What's the number to CPS??

Look, most of us are parents. We all know what a joy and privilege it is to have been blessed with children. I have some very good friends who've struggled to conceive. And yet I will bet my next paycheck that we have all hated our kids at one time or another. Or more frequently than others, whatever the case may be ;)

The point is, it's OK to complain about our kids! At least it is here. This is my mother-effen blog and we are complaining and whining and saying all the awful things polite society won't let us say about those adorable bundles of joy. You will not be reading about how fabulous little Billy was in the school program or how proud I am of sweet Sally and her lemonade stand. What you will be reading is more along the lines of peas up the nose, poop on the carpet, epic tantrums in public and being THISCLOSE to selling one of the kids in the WalMart parking lot. (a fair trade would have sufficed at the time; like a coffee maker or half an eaten hot dog).

So please, sit back, relax. Lock your kids out in the backyard and enjoy 10 fucking minutes to yourself while you read, relate or just muse at the following rantings.