Saturday, May 2, 2009

Mommy is NOT a Jungle Gym

Just a note to my two beautiful toddlers: Mommy is not a jungle gym.

Oh, sure... Mommy's body may be solid and rail-thin, but let's not get her confused with the monkey bars.

While I'm at it, I'd like to clear up a few other misunderstandings...

To my pre-teen girls: Mommy is not a laundry service.

The fact that you did not put your clothes away and, instead, "stored" them on the floor does not mean Mommy is going to be sympathetic to the seven loads of laundry you toted to the laundry room. Laura Ingalls probably did her own laundry at age 11, and so can you.

To my teen boys: Mommy is not a rocket scientist, nor your personal secretary.

The fact that you failed to start your science project until 10:00 p.m. the night before it was due does not mean Mommy considers staying up until 1:30 a.m. to record the results of your experiment "quality time."

To my teen daughter: Mommy is not the Wicked Bitch of the West.

Enough said.

To my husband: Mommy is not going be your "naughty nurse."

Well... not again, anyway...


  1. Did the jungle gym message get through? My kids' favorite activity is to "snuggle" with mama in the king sized bed - - "snuggle" being a euphemism for jumping around like wrestling maniacs on top of mama.

  2. Gah... no, unfortunately. It's my *ahem* crampy time, and I think they just... know. They really seem insistant on using Mommy's uterus as a trampoline.

    Mr. Wright got his message loud and clear, though... He's avoiding me and my crankiness.

  3. ...and this mommy is not a personal ATM, a busboy, or a re-washer of wet clothes that lazy teens leave in the washing machine for 2 days and, hence, are now musty.

    I feel your pain.


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