Confessions

Sometimes the answer is no. No, I don't really want to stop what I'm doing to see the coloring page for the 12th time. No, I don't want to hear the song again. No, I don't want to glitter paint right now.

After giving BG a riveting speech about how bad it is to eat sweets before bed and cutting off her Oreo habit, I promptly put her to bed, poured a glass of milk and ate 3 chocolate chip cookies.

I've been adding minutes to the Ok to Wake clock (i.e.: the greatest invention ever made). It now turns green at 7:36. (Don't hate. You know 6 minutes can save a life. It can be the difference between a shower or not, peeing in private vs. with an audience, sanity or...the alternative.)

Of all the kids in all the world, sometimes I just stare at her and can't believe God lets me be her mom.

I don't care what you do in your room as long as you're in your room. And I'm not.

I wouldn't be mad if BG punched ***** on the playground. I'd teach her about appropriate behaviors and responses, but I wouldn't be mad. (*****'s name removed to protect the bratty 4 year old child who won't let kids play, is rude and encourages other kids to be rude, talks back to adults, pushes kids and is generally not a joy to be around. Also to protect me. I could explain Brynna punching someone on the playground, me - probably not.)


I realize my confessions run the gambit from sweet and loving to...well...threatening to punch a 4 year old. Welcome to motherhood. Welcome to being a girl, for that matter! Will you leave a comment and share some confessions of your own? No one is grading on eloquent words or justifiable feelings. It's ok to be real. If you can't be real, you'll go real crazy! (Been there, done that, have the meds to prove it!)

ps: I'm serious. Leave a comment. Or I may begin to feel like I'm the only one. Either that, or I'll know you're all leaving me high and dry, and I'll have to come find you on a playground!