Trick question


Is this a cute picture*, or what?

Awww, why does momy want to hurt us?


Fuck. No.

And NOT because…

  • The Packers lost last night to the most hated Cowboys AND Brett Favre aka The Future Mr. Miss Britt got hurt, pretty badly.
  • And it’s not really cool to wear the team jersey the day after a bad loss – even if they are matching.
  • Or the fact that my unmade bed is a little overwhelming of any possible cuteness.
  • Or the fact that my son looks like he’s about to be led to the guillotine (which is still an option).
  • OR even that there is another spot in the picture, making me wonder if in fact I do have a ghost – or very badly need a new camera.

No, no – while all of these things are disturbing, they pale in comparison to the real disaster here:



I can’t remember what exactly it was that woke me up – mother’s instinct, the sounds of an intruder, mysterious snickering in the next room maybe. I don’t know. But whatever it was, I looked at the clock and noticed that it was 3:14 AM!!! and something was not right.

I walked out into the living room to find both of my children not only awake, but up, dressed, and having already eaten fucking breakfast!!!!! At 3:14 in the damned morning!!!!!!!!! (really, there are not enough exclamation points in the world!!)

I calmly explained to my offspring that it was 3:14 IN THE DAMNED MORNING! and therefore not an appropriate time to get up. Everyone was going back to bed. And no, I actually don’t care that you’re wide awake. Or dressed. Or have eaten. Yes, I know you just ate breakfast but no you are not brushing your teeth because it is not teeth brushing time. It is still Please For The Love Of God Let Me Get Some Sleep Time!

Ahem. So. Everyone went back to bed.

For about.. oh… I think… forty-five fucking minutes!!!

Yes, I think that’s right. I’m pretty sure it was about 4 AM when my son wandered into my room and woke me up to ask me if I would initial off a couple more spots on his Reading Challenge sheet. At four. AM.

No. Back to bed. Now. Immediately. Getting angry. Back. To. Bed.

I put the pillow over my head and prayed to God that over the next hour and forty five minutes I would somehow manage to achieve a deep enough sleep that I could forget all this in the morning – in the real morning.

4:45. Apparently my son is whizzing through his reading challenge and is afraid that if he waits until a less than unholy hour I will lose all ability to initial. So, although I’m pretty sure I made myself very clear at 3:14 am and 4:00 am, somehow my talented and gifted child assumed that 4:45 am was a perfectly acceptable time to wake me up AGAIN. To initial his damn sheet!

Now, I am not a monster. I understand that with parenting comes things like nightmares and desperate dehydration in the middle of the night. I get that. I do.

But seriously?!?!?!?! From 3:14 AM until I finally GAVE THE FUCK UP AND GOT UP ALREADY, he was waking me up for some inane reason or another every forty-five minutes.

Somebody tell me WHY children are instinctively wired to drive you to the brink of sanity?

Please, explain to me HOW IN THE HELL it makes sense in their little bitty brains that 3 o’clock is a perfectly acceptable time to get up and STAY UP?

And also, really, I’d like to know – how is it that after all of this I ended up getting up LATE? *sigh*

I need a nap.

*This picture was not actually taken at 3:14 am. Punishment for driving mommy crazy is to pose for the camera and have yo bidness broadcast to the Internet. Welcome to iParenting.

**If you send me hate mail for calling my children little shits, I will probably immediately fall to my knees and thank the Holy Virgin Mother herself for sending you to me and immediately repent of all my evil ways. Or, tell you to go screw yourself. So that you can try it sometime.

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