On today’s episode of Dubious Compliments from Stumps

“Mommy your face looks like a sandwich ’cause it has moles all over it.”

I assume she is referring to my sun damage age spots large pores freckles.

Um. What types of sandwiches have they been feeding my children at daycare?

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In unrelated news, I am pleased to discover that Stumps and Beans are quite creative and am veritably bursting with copious amounts of understandable mommy pride.

For example, just today Beanie repurposed a pair of toenail clippers into a shank.

“No Beanie. Stop Beans. STOP!!! Mommy she got the clippers! Mommyyyy she is trying to clip meeee!!!”

It is worth mentioning that they are both sick so I am home from work and we are quarantined to the house. Only 170 more minutes until Husband comes home. Not that I am counting. Or completely disgusted from doing many hours of post-puke laundry. Or entirely out of BRAT diet ingredients, Florastor, and Pedialyte.

Or going stir crazy and slowly rapidly losing my grip.

I would be a really shitty SAHM.

Much, much respect ladies (and the occasional gent). I don’t know how you do it.

Unfortunately I can’t unremember any of this

One of my children has been throwing up all afternoon and the other has a 102 degree fever. Pretty certain the one who has thus far not started vomiting just has not started yet.

Alarmingly, cleaning up multiple episodes of The Pukes off of all of our belongings is only the second most disturbing reality of my Monday evening.

Having one of my children ask to have her “bottom temperature” taken (repeatedly) this evening unquestionably topped the list.

What. The. Hell. Kid.

comedy

“Toilet head. Toilet head! Bottom privates pooping peepee toilet head!! Bahahhaaha!! Mommy isn’t that funny?? Bahahahaha!!”

Questioning whether I should humor Stumps’ terrible sense of humor in favor of preserving her developing four-year-old self-esteem and say yes. Perhaps force myself to laugh.

She thinks she’s hilarious. I’m at a loss.

I’m on it

Let’s be honest.

I think we all know that I am the last mom to, say, create a from-scratch leprechaun trap, have a leprechaun hunt, and dye the water in the toilet bowl green.

After I microwave a dinner out of a can, I may or may not have a history of bragging to Husband about how I lovingly toiled to prepare the family meal.

Nevertheless, let us state for the record that today is March 27, a full three days before Easter, and this year…

CIMG6243

the Easter bunny has got her shit together.

=

In 1776 when our founding fathers declared our independence by stating “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men (and I would venture to add, “women”) are created equal…” I think they were onto something.

While I myself am probably not Christian, I have a young daughter who most certainly is. Whether I buy into it all 100% or not, this post from Momastery represents everything that I could not myself properly articulate, but truly and sincerely agree with and believe.

If it were mandatory to take a class before becoming a parent (and in a perfect world, it probably would be), and I were the instructor (let’s pretend for a moment that I would be anything other than laughably unqualified to teach such a class), Glennon’s hypothetical letter to her son would be required reading.

Top Ten Ways to Determine Whether You Parent Stumps or Beans

You may be the parents of Stumps or Beans if…

10) …you trim your littles’ fingernails and don’t even cringe anymore when the clippings continuously hit you in the face, and frequently turboblast right into your mouth.

9) …you wear noise cancelling air travel headphones around the house nearly daily to preserve both your hearing and your sanity. (to Husband – Best. Christmas gift. Ever.)

8) …you are determined to outsource the potty-training of your toddler to your recently potty-trained preschooler. (I have faith in you, Stumps. Don’t let me down.)

7) …you were more than a little excited the first time you received one of those large promotional kid activity car magnets and proudly and promptly displayed it; relieved that your minivan was no longer feeling naked, nonparticipatory, neglected, and left out.

6) …you are developing a major complex, and are in fact quite certain you have failed as a mommy, because your 22 month old child has not yet once told you she loves you. In fact, she has recently sunk to a new level of pure demonic evil and actually started laughing at you when you beg to hear those three little words every mother longs to hear.

*)…you are ashamed to admit that your nearly-two year old and over-four-year-old still consume most of their meals in infant highchairs for the following three reasons:

*5) Your kitchen table is covered in so much shit on a daily basis that it does not contain even one square inch of exposed surface area for actual eating.

*4) The highchairs can be situated in front of Yo Gabba Gabba, whilst the kitchen table cannot.

and

*3) You can lock and strap them into their highchairs seat-like prison shackles so that they can’t accidentally fall out and risk injuring themselves escape.

2) …you selected nicer furniture fifteen years ago for your college dorm room than you do now for your home so that you won’t be upset by the juice/snot/markers/spit-up/urine that will inevitably decorate everything you own.

and finally

1) …despite items one through nine, you are still in a state of delightful disbelief that you managed to win the baby lottery – not once, but twice.

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(previous Top Ten post)