There’s a new craze in the Facebook world where people are
posting a certain number of random facts about themselves. And if you ‘like’ or
comment on their post, they’ll give you a number, and you have to come up with
that many random facts about yourself. I’m not much for the Facebook crazes but
I actually think this one is kind of fun. I’m going to do it a little
differently though. I received the number 11 from my good friend, Brandie, and
I’m happy to share 11 things about myself. But I’m going to do it here on this
trusty blog and share one a day for 11 days. And they’ll be random
things about myself specifically relating to motherhood. Let’s call it 11
Confessions from a Really, Really, Real Mom. Here we go:
Number 1: My biggest
pet peeve is when my child spills something. I mean I really can’t stand it. I
have to grit my teeth and clench my jaw as I grumble “Go get a towel please.”
But in my head, Super Duper Crazy Me is shouting “WHY IN THE HELL CAN’T WE HAVE
ONE FREAKING MEAL WITHOUT ME FEELING LIKE I’M IN THE KITCHEN SCENE OF
GREMLINS!!!????!!!!”
It’s not that I’m mad at Olivia per say. I think my
frustration is twofold. The first is that I grew up pretty broke. I hate
wasting food. HATE IT. I hate it so much that I have no qualms about scraping
mold off of something and eating it anyway. Luckily, I don’t have to do that
much these days but I’ll do it and not feel bad about it. I can’t stand seeing
a perfectly good glass of milk tumble over and watch as white rivers run across
my kitchen floor. It just feels so wasteful.
But the biggest issue here, I think, is that I feel deceived.
Yes, deceived. Deceived by every Cup-With-a-Lid manufacturer out there who
created their product to give the impression that as long as you have secured
their trusty little lid on their trusty little cup, you will live a life of spill
free-ness. Lies!!! All lies!!!
Use a “sippy cup” you say? Well, aside from having such an asinine
name, those things are useless. We have tried at least 87 designs of these
things and my child has managed to get all of them to leak. Who tests those
things anyway? Probably adults. And adults should never test anything that a
kid is going to use. I don’t care what your IQ is or what your degree is, no
adult on the planet can figure out how to destroy something as well as a child.
They think of things that no adult in history would have thought of doing. Like
the time we got out of the car and Olivia leaned down, stuck her hand through
the spokes on the wheel, and burned her hand on the brake rotor. True story.
Never in my life have I seen someone even THINK about sticking their bare hand
on a hot brake rotor. So trust me when I say that my child doesn’t see the
phrase “Child-Proof” as a promise. She’s sees it as a challenge. No sippy cup
on this planet will survive my house. You say “sippy-cup.” I say “Stupid Word
for a Stupid Cup.”
And how in the crap can one tiny cup of 8 ounces of milk
make the Gulf Oil Spill look like…well…like spilled milk?? Suddenly, 8 ounces
has the power to cover my entire kitchen in a matter of milliseconds. And 8
weeks later when I’m walking past a wall with strange streaks down it, I’ll
remember that spilled milk that hit the floor and managed to create a 12 foot
spill radius.
Also, I’d like to review the phrase “It’s no use crying over
spilled milk.” Whoever came up with that didn’t have kids. Because there may be
no use but when given an opportunity to act right and clean up after themselves
or stand in the middle of the mess and cry, well, I think we all know which
option a child goes with. Seriously, why is SHE crying anyway? I’m the one on
the floor wiping up milk on my hands and knees and being reminded yet again
that I forgot to sweep under the kitchen cabinets.
Normal people would offer to help with the cleanup. If I
knocked a glass of water on you at your favorite Mexican food restaurant, I
would jump up in embarrassment and start throwing napkins your way while I
helped move your brand new smart phone out of the way of my re-enactment of the
Great Flood. But not a kid. Oh no. A kid will just shrug, say “I’m sorry” in a
super sweet voice, reach across you for another chip, and crunch away while you
scramble around on the French fry encrusted restaurant floor (why the crap are
there French fries at a Mexican food place anyway???).
This morning, I was reminded how very much I hate spills
when my child knocked a full glass of hot chocolate onto the living room
carpet. Hence the new rule in our house “No More Eating Or Drinking In The
Living Room.” Too bad I didn’t think of that little gem BEFORE I had a nice hot
chocolate colored stain right in front of my couch.
Too add insult to injury, a few moments later, as I was
still fuming about the hot chocolate, I reached into the pantry and knocked a
box of rice onto the floor causing a—yep you guessed it!—rice spill. Too bad
they don’t make a sippy cup for rice. Ah well, at least the kid comes by it
honestly.
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