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Happy Birthday.

To my daughter. Today is your tenth birthday. TEN. I would say it’s all downhill from here but you and I both know that this is just the beginning. I hope the last 10 have been great for you. They were for me. I love your smile and your love of everything. It really does make up for the solid six months you cried after you were born. Also please remember to never run under closing garage doors and please don’t eat grass seed again.

Mother’s Day 2016.

Mother’s day is tomorrow. And I’m going to just take my minute and say this. I love my children a whole whole bunch. But there are minutes, days even when I just want to be able to use the bathroom without one of them punching another in the fucking face or for them to go the fuck to sleep at their actual bedtime. So for tomorrow what I want is this: I want to sleep in. I don’t want to pick up any dirty underwear off the bathroom floor. I don’t want to argue about who is supposed to do dishes. I don’t want to do laundry. I do not want to cook. I don’t want to go to soccer. I don’t want to go basketball. I don’t want to go out to eat with my kids. I don’t want to go to the fucking zoo. And I don’t want fucking society to tell me that I am supposed to want these things. I feel guilty enough as it about my parenting skills. Hallmark can shove it.

Some days it’s too much. Most days even. And tomorrow I refuse to be a servant to tyrants who have done nothing but exit my uterus in the most terrifying way imaginable.

Why are men told they should go out golfing on father’s day? I’m taking back mother’s day.

And I will start a fire if I am given a homemade coupon book.

My kids really are gold. I swear. But mamma has got to have a fucking break.



*Opinion expressed here is my own. I do not speak for all of womanhood. Don’t come knocking down my door with pitchforks. I am just a mom who needs a break from feeling guilty about needing time to myself, this shit is hard.