Thursday, August 19, 2010

Mary Comes Clean, Sort Of

Just in case anyone had the idea that I am without fault, here are a few "confessions": 

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I love stealing! I am a gifted thief. I very often have the ability to recognize things of value and take them for my own particular use.  Do you think I should go to confession for this?  Perhaps you need more information.  I steal other peoples genius ideas and put them to work for me.  Whatever can I mean?  Whenever I see or learn of a possible solution for a problem I'm having, I grab hold and implement.  It doesn't have to be a big problem, maybe a home decor or organization plan, perhaps a craft to do with the kids, maybe even a good way to store scrub brushes.  There is no idea too small to escape my desire for thievery.

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I like it when my kids get hurt.  Last week Andy fell off of the trapeze on the playground- actually, he jumped- and landed on his elbow.  It appeared to me that he may have dislocated it by the way he was running to me with it dangling at his side.  If it was, by the time he got to me it was already back in the joint.  Anne-Marie's godfather was over visiting and was so kind and gentle with Andy he helped me tremendously because, truth be told, I was a little rattled by the fear his injury was serious (Thank you, Mitchell).  But back to my atrocious love of injury.  Andy was so upset that he quit playing with his friends and went to lie down on the couch.  My 5 year-old wild man who never stops moving actually let me rock him and sing him lullabies and fell asleep in my arms! Can you really blame me for loving injury? 

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I have no compassion for tears.  When my kids cry I say, "Dry it up."  Am I an even more horrible mother than you already believe me to be?  Crocodile tears and temper tantrums are one of my biggest annoyances.  Boo hoo!  She won't let me be a dog.  Boo hoo! Opening the drawer to put my underwear away is too hard.  Boo. Hoo.  Crying for no reason?  I can't stand it.  The other night after the kids were in bed, I was leaving one of their rooms and I heard Renee playing in her bed with a little toy puppy.  Then she did something that made me laugh until I cried.  The dog was whining, like dogs do, and I overheard Renee tell the dog, "Dry it up!".  See! I've taught the kids that whining gets you no sympathy. 

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I am even worse than you think:  last week my kids begged me to let them play outside with their friends in the backyard.  I absolutely refused and, instead, sent them to bed.  I was thus labeled:
"The Meanest Mom Ever!!!!!"
I totally deserved it, too.  After all, I had just spent the weekend forcing the children to ice skate, play in the water at the splash park, have an overnight camp-out with hot dogs and s'mores,  and then eat homemade ice cream with Magic Shell.  I really am pure evil.

Mary forcing the kids to have fun as a family.
Would you like to come clean?  Please unburden yourself of your secret "faults" here!  

3 comments:

  1. Giggling! I love this! I already posted for today, but can I link up an older post I did confessing my failures?

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  2. Yes! Please share your terribleness with me, Young Mom, even if it's old news.

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  3. You are so funny! I tell my kids to dry up, too, unless the crying is coupled with extreme blood loss or a golf ball sized bruise. I HATE whining. HATE, HATE, HATE it. I'll have to bookmark this page and link to it when I write my confession; it's a good idea that I'll "steal." Now I have to go get my girls from school!

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"Let your speech always be with grace, as though seasoned with salt, so that you will know how you should respond to each person." ~Colossians 4:6 (NASB)