As much as I do love my kids, there are some weekends when I look forward to settling in at work on Monday morning. For that solid 8 or 9 hours, I know I won’t have to break up arguments or talk about poop. On a recent weekend, just before the arrival of my third baby, I decided to write down some of the typically nutty Mom-isms I said to my 4-year-old daughter and 6-year-old son. What are yours?
- Ughhh!!! Don’t put your hands in a public bathroom garbage can!!!
- Stop strangling your brother.
- I’m 9 months pregnant, I can’t play street hockey right now. No, I can’t play soccer either.
- Please wash your hands.
- Did you use soap? Go back and use soap – and water.
- Please don’t lick me.
- Let’s not talk about your penis right now.
- Please stop putting the game pieces on your penis.
- Please go wash the game pieces.
- Noooo!!! Don’t drop your pants in the puddle under the toilet. That puddle is someone’s pee.
- Um, yes, I’ll “Google it”
- How do you know about Google?
- Yes, I’ll play Anna to your Elsa. Why do you always want to be Elsa?
- No, I don’t have a favorite child. No, I don’t know which one of you is nicer. No, there’s nothing you can do to be my favorite.
- What’s our storyline here? Where is our My Little Pony story going?
- I can’t marry you. I’m married to Daddy. Yes, I think I’ll stay married to him.
- Why doesn’t anyone in this house put caps on markers?!
- Can we NOT talk about poop for about an hour?
- I DON’T WANT TO BE LICKED!
- Good behavior gets good things. IS THIS GOOD BEHAVIOR??!
- Do you want me to hold your hand while you poop?
- Do you need me to wipe your bum?
- Don’t put your feet near your sister’s face – you’ll end up kicking her.
- See, you just kicked her! Get. Your. Feet. Out. Of. Her. Face.
- Just because Rainbow Dash is blue doesn’t mean she’s a boy.
- I’m throwing out ALL dried up markers and never buying any new ones.
- No, the baby won’t be my favorite just because it’s cute.
- That’s not funny. It’s gross. There’s a difference. A big difference.
- I’m going to count to three. 1, 2, 2 ½, 2 ¾. Do you hear me? I’m almost at 3!!
- This is why you shouldn’t stick lollipops in your hair.
The frantic pace of life with three kids is exhausting, frantic and exhilarating. All the talk about poop, all the wasted markers and all the sibling arguments are only background noise to the overwhelming love these kids give to us. They make me laugh, even when they make me say the craziest things. What funny things do you find yourself saying to your kids on any typical weekend?
