Mom stuff

Book in Progress

Draft – somewhere in some chapter

i’m missing the suspension spring, 
or maybe my gear train is worn out
i gotta be made with some missing essential element
cuz the absolute truth of the matter is
fuck this bs “mom life” shit
while fully fucking present and aware of the backlash of what an ungrateful undeserving asshole i am to even think such a thought and write such a thing, (shame on me, i know) 
here i am 👋 and ya i wrote it cuz if you must know  ….
i’m toasted burnttt-the-effffff-out  
you fucking judgmental, eye-rolling, holier-than-thou prick

i despise homemaking
i can’t stand cooking and dish cleaning,
i hate the monotony of dishes that seem to never end (like seriously, why do you need a new effing cup every time) 
and laundry
fuckkkkkk laundry and stupid hidden #tissuetreasureconfetti
washing, folding, organizing….
again and again and again and again and again 
for 5 fucking people ….
(bedding’s and towels included) 

I hate checking homework,
school is stupid
i hate pretending i have the patience to listen to choppy incomprehensible half ass reading
(like if i have to show up, aren't you suppose to fucking show up too! ) 
i hate arguing over incorrect math
(you are not going to change the system, there is no room here for “thinking” regurgitate the lessons do it right, play the game, and move on) 

i despise grocery shopping and feeding everyone, every day, all day. 
i hate being the family vitamin/supplement police, 
or the bedtime officer or the appointed boundary holder (cause real talk, i don't give a fuck)
i hate making them floss when they eat fucking popcorn and the damn kernels that continuously appear hidden in my shaggy carpet months later. 
i hate picking rice up from the floor on my hands and knees cause the coordination of placing a spoon in one's mouth is just too fucking hard (and no, not all of them they are not toddlers)

i hate sticky-finger smudges
i hate sitting in a pile of urine cause my son was too fucking distracted (and probably lazy) to lift the damn seat. 
i hate cleaning shit and wiping asses …
honestly, professional shit-changer was never supposed to make it on my resume... (completely over that one)
i hate doing bath time ….
it’s your body, was your damn shit! 
i hate brushing unruly tangled hair, “cause like i decided to do cartwheels outside with my hair down in the muddy grass “
i hate cleaning boogers off my effing sofa (get a fucking tissue, for fuck sake) 

i hate the suffocation of guilt and panic when after doing all the shitty, menial daily tasks, i get asked to  sit and “hang out” 
i hate it cause i always say yes  (conscious not to miss out on any moment; thanks again karen for always reminding me how fast it goes )
even though i need to say NO for my mental sanity.

i hate being the parent that “has to” (yes, i know – “gets to” 🙄 )  volunteer for each of their field trips so i can listen to the incessant sounds that come from a bus filled with multiple tiny, entitled a-holes.  
i hate being the elected birthday co-ordinator, holding the primary responsibility not to drop the ball and making sure each person feels special for being born by hyper-extending myself into ridiculous grand gestures to prove my love... like seriously fuck that shit (i gave you my entire body, my mind, my soul, my sanity, my career, my freedom, my etc....)

most of all... i hate that i just want to play, teach you about good music, be present and not do all the fucking shit, and all i do is the fucking shit 
and i don’t love any part of the fucking shit

****possible segment on how I work through this thinking/ experience (void of should/ shouldn'ts) ****


Between the Cracks of My Sanity: Reclaim yourself (Self-help guide to mom life)