This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things

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.

{I may have also had a public meltdown about the condition of their rooms yesterday.}
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How can I even expect my son to conceal all of the crap underneath his bed with a bedskirt he ripped?
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Let’s pretend I have been teaching my little boys the alphabet, and the flashcards were left out after a beautiful educational experience.
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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.  photo 3A982D7D-8506-46F4-A8FD-5E97C46346DC_zpso04dwepj.jpg

The scribble art is none too ironically below this infamous t-shirt that captured one day in a boy’s life.
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A “this is why we can’t have nice things like white clothing” original.

The only hope I have for my daughter’s future is that she told me today, “I want to own all of the businesses.”
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So she will be able to afford to hire a professional cleaner. Perhaps her brother??
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This homemade teeter totter really accents her furniture. Don’t you think?

It also accents my living room. It’s a very versatile piece.
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Hula hoops also make for very versatile decor pieces.
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I am sure Pottery Barn sells these, but Dollar Tree has a fabulous knock off. #lifehack

If you prefer walking around barefoot, I wouldn’t suggest the following…but if you’re like me and wondering how to add that pop of color to your drab decor, my kids have just the answer.
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You will have to wear shoes, but rest assured, we have adequate shoe storage.
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Get bins, they said. Bins hide anything, they said.

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??

I guess as much effort as it would take to put a toothbrush in the drawer.
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Or clean toothpaste out of the sink.

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.

I will conclude this episode of This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things by showing you our sad little cheerleader that had ACL surgery this morning.  photo 5A8AB2A4-13B2-4930-8368-D9CDF9130B27_zpsdma6vovs.jpg
She is expected to make a full recovery.

Friends, one day I hope to stop sticking to the floor. And I hope that I can, once again, own nice things. But until then, I am late to my meeting… photo 09199B13-3435-4CC4-A038-8DFDDB2360C1_zpsdtxlrcod.jpg

With my cool kids that I adore and love and even like.

Even if the Future Maids of America reject them.


4 thoughts on “This Is Why We Can’t Have Nice Things

  1. Actually, no, I have a couple more things to say:

    1) did you say your kids clean the living room EVERY DAY? That officially impresses me. My kids think they do all the chores in the house, so I just have more time to relax. The truth is, they do chores but more like once a week…not every day. Good job, momma!

    2) I heard somewhere that we aren’t trying to raise good KIDS, we are trying to raise great ADULTS. I cling to that when I feel like my kids are being terrorists (of the messy, non-listening, argumentative variety) because they are strong, smart and independent and are gonna be fine as long as we all survive the chaos that is this life stage. (Sidenote: it’s a bonus that both you and I have actual GOOD KIDS approximately…let’s say…80% of the time?)

    3) I love your blog. Makes me feel like we talk all the time when we totally dont.


  2. Pingback: Humans Have This Weird Way Of Being Human | The FUNctional Mom

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