Crazy. Seriously. I now have four kids, at home, with me everyday, while I actually attempt to do my job. Four kids. FOUR. That’s a lot. Not two. Not three. Four.
Me. My fault. So I guess I have to own it. Because not only did I volunteer for this… it was my @#$%*%$ idea in the first place.
OK. Background. I actually own two kids. But they have two wonderful cousins, who they absolutely adore completely. Well, that is, until thirty minutes after they arrive. Then? It’s GAME ON!
Fighting. Arguing. Whining. Bickering. Crying. Farting. And NO, that’s not a typo… these kids are farting all. the. time. I think it’s some secret competition that they created to see who can fart the loudest. My entire house reeks… and it’s too hot to open a window.
Arguments over who’s using which tablet. Fights over where they are going to sit. Crying because she got a red cup, and I wanted the red cup. I can’t use these headphones because even though they are exactly the same as mine, they’re not my headphones and I don’t like them… and not a single one of them can actually pee in the damn bowl? I mean, honestly.
I could go on for hours. And did I mention the reek?
As much as I hate giving any credit to a certain sleazebag comedian; I have to say that he was correct about one thing. They all have brain damage. But to be fair, they are not alone. Because I am the one who was stupid enough to attempt some fun, wholesome, family time in the middle of a time where kids have had nothing to do for 6 months. Imagine a double summer vacation.
Before you attempt to tell yourself: “awww, it can’t be THAT bad” know this… You’d be wrong. Admit it. You’d want to smother yourself with a got dam pillow if you spent longer that 30 minutes with four kids under 12 while trying to write a artic….. GET YOUR SISTER’S SHOES OUT OF THE FRICKING OVEN! I DON’T CARE IF SHE DID IT FIRST. sorry.. where was I?
Oh, yeah. Writing. Without interruption.
Anyway. They are actually ordinary kids in most ways. They make me yell. They drive me nuts. They make me roll my eyes a lot. But they also make me laugh. They give me hugs. They even make me proud. Plus I love the hell out of all of them. That being said, I would also sell them on the black market if the price was right.
Ok. Enough. I have to go figure out a way to clean melted rubber out of my damn oven. And actually, the farting thing? … is kinda funny
His name is Daddy and he likes warm hugs. And despite the occasional rant, he is actually a very good father and uncle, who loves to have the family together. Check out Puck LIVE (from his daughters bedroom) during the pandemic from 10:00-2:00 weekdays. Listen Here