When I started The FUNctional Mom, about six people read my blog…seven if you count my husband who I guilt into reading. My heart behind this blog is to make other moms (and people…shout out to all the husbands who were guilted into reading my previous post) feel normal.
Between Pinterest perfection and how weird people can be to parents, I like to show the honest parts of my life. It is so easy to believe every one else has it so together while you’re barely staying afloat.
Now that I have tens of readers, I want to clarify something that my early readers know…but I haven’t mentioned in awhile…
I am absolutely obsessed with my children and adore them. It’s seriously almost gross how much I love being a mom. It’s what I’ve always dreamed of, and sometimes I pinch myself that my deepest dreams have come to fruition.
I talk very candidly about the hard/ugly/embarrassing parts of raising kids because that is very much a part of it. But I also want to make sure you all know that I looooooooove my kids so so so much. And I even like them. The perspective from which I write is with the baseline knowledge that I love being a mom. And I imagine if you’re reading, you feel the exact same way.
Now that we have that out of the way…
I thought I would present to you the sequel to InstaReal…in a segment I call “This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things”
Approximately a million times each week, my kids will do something to which I think (and sometimes say), “This is why we can’t have nice things.”
And do you want to know why? Because my children are basically savages.
As they were cleaning the living room last week (a chore they do every day), Caleb told my other kids, “Mom must think we are the future maids of America.”
Because they had to clean one room. Savages, I tell you.
I feel like their bedrooms alone can speak to the fact that the Future Maids of America would never even hire them. (I am sorry, current cleaning professionals, for my children thinking they could ever live up to your standards.)
I feel like showing their bedrooms is such low brow writing, but I literally cleaned all of their rooms two days ago. And so I think I want your pity more than anything.
Let’s pretend I have been teaching my little boys the alphabet, and the flashcards were left out after a beautiful educational experience.
Let’s ignore the fact that my almost Kindergartener barely knows his letters.
I know scribbles on walls are nothing new. What makes these scribbles particularly fun is that a certain three year old made them approximately four minutes after I painted over scribbles he had previously drawn.
I am sorry, THEY, but you don’t know my life. You don’t know how hard it is for my children to push in bins. DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH EFFORT THAT TAKES??
The Future Maids of America can’t be bothered by such tasks.
They’re too busy playing their DS in the bathroom.
A bathroom that you can’t smell through the computer, but I assure you the aroma is lovely.
With my cool kids that I adore and love and even like.
Even if the Future Maids of America reject them.