Confessions of a Professional Mom

Confessions of a Professional Mom

Professional mom seeking clarity, balance and a well deserved glass of wine.

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A Spill Gone Wrong…Someone Must Be Killed

November 22, 2011 , , , , , , ,

I wouldn't have to clean this up if you'd listened the first time.








Ivy: Can I have some Sprite?

Me: No, it’s almost bedtime. Drink water.

(several minutes go by)

Ivy: Can I have some Sprite? (holding the 2-liter bottle)

Me: I said NO.

Ivy: (Turns to put the Sprite away, trips and suddenly everything within a 5 ft. radius is covered in the sugary clear beverage. Once known as “my kitchen floor” now is called “Lake Sprite”.)

Me: (Colorful swearing and the yelling begins) 

Ivy: (Bawling)

Me: If you’d listened to me the first time, I wouldn’t be cleaning up this mess right now. (Hubby jumps in to help before I kill someone) Why can’t you kids do what we ask THE FIRST TIME?!

Me: (cussing under my breath, pissed that I’m wiping Sprite off of everything in my kitchen and mad that I didn’t handle the situation better)

Why don’t my kids listen?

Now, if you’re the kind of mom who handles these situations with grace and ease, you should just stop reading right now. I don’t want to offend you and I don’t want to know what you think. No offense. If you’re anything like me, then please, read on and comment at the end.

Maybe my kids don’t listen to me because I’m a bad mom? Maybe I don’t follow thru fast enough? Maybe they’re just kids? Maybe they really speak a different language and don’t understand me? Maybe they’re deaf? I honestly think they tune me out. Let’s face it, I used to tune my mom out. I remember her lips moving, but I heard nothing that was coming out. Good Lord, they’re ME. I hate paybacks, don’t you?

Of course your kids are perfect and never spill Sprite, or flour, or leave toothpaste all over the counter, or crumbs on the couch, or boogers on the wall. It’s just my kids. They’re defective. Maybe I’m defective. All I know is I need to try something different. Like whispering or shouting into a bull horn. Extremes!

Please tell me tales of spillages you’ve encountered recently. Messes that have occurred because your kids didn’t listen the first time. Please let me know that I’m not broken. That I’m not alone. That Sprite all over my kitchen is not such a big deal and if one of my kids had cancer I wouldn’t care if it was shit all over my kitchen. I’d happily clean it up and hug them anyway. I think I need a Sprite mixed with something martini!


Stay sane, my friends.


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Try getting raw eggs out of a woven chair. Can you say ruined. “No touching the eggs till we’re ready.” “please leave the eggs alone.” “did you not hear me?”…roll and CRACK.


When the Kids Go To Bed

November 22, 2011

Ooooh eggs! Those are so evil. Thanks for sharing. I feel better already.


Allison DeFord

November 22, 2011

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