Confessions of a SAHHM

I love my kids. They make my heart sing and dance. I love my front row seat watching them grow and change. Being a part of that is an amazing experience.

But I know that a vital reason my kids are enjoyable is due to the day-in, day-out training they receive in the 24 hour/7days a week care they are given. Though I know I fail them repeatedly, if I'm honest with myself there are times when I'm maybe a little too consistent. (Is that possible?)

It's this consistent need to get up off my keester or drop what I'm doing every three to five minutes to follow through with correction that I desire refuge from. It wears me down until I find myself at the end of the day yearning for bedtime, a glass of wine, and a box of chocolates. Most days I wonder if I'm not living a Groundhog Day.

I say the same things, and correct the same behaviors. I make the three meals, hand out the snacks, read the same books, and play the same movies. I wash the same dishes, fold the same clothes, and clean up the same messes.

Though this post may seem like a You're the World's Greatest Mom, Happy Mother's Day To Me, it's not. I have a confession to make and a question to ask.

I'll just get straight to the point.

Confession: Though I always want my children to be obedient and respectful, when I am gone and they are with Nathan I secretly hope that they are as demanding in the area of training as they are for me.

This never applies to others who watch them. When my kids are with anyone else I find myself more worried for the babysitter than about the babysitter.

But when they are with their daddy I want to walk in the door and have him run to meet me with an exclamation of, "Baby, now I know how you feel. What I don't know is how you do it! Honey, you're my hero!"

Clarification: My kids are good kids. They are just kids. And it takes a lot of work to grow up kids who are obedient and respectful.

Now, my question: Am I the only mom who harbors this deranged desire? Be honest. Leave your answers below.

And don't judge me.

A Month of Funny

Me: "Hazel, what is your favorite color?"

Hazel: "Me favite colo is....book!"

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During our many trips to the potty Hazel kept telling me she was going "fissy poop". It took a few weeks for me to get her to tell me why it is "fissy" poop. Her answer, "Day swimmin, and swimmin, wound and wound."

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We sent the kids to my in-laws for a night when we celebrated our anniversary back in April. While packing the kids bag Abiah asked if he could bring two of his toy guns so he and Poppi could play with them.

After Hazel saw that he got to bring his guns she decided that she needed to bring her pink pistol also. As they were both bringing me their guns Amelia waddled over to the toy shelf and came back with a book and handed it to me so I could put it in the bag for her to bring.

I've got that one hook, line, and sinker! Mommy's little book worm.

After we packed the bag I had Abiah carry it to the front door. As he struggled under the weight he remarked that it was so heavy because it was carrying all this stuff for, "two babies and one... grown up." He'll be seven next Monday.

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When I took Hazel to the bathroom she had a moment of pure sweetness and looking me in the eyes said softly, "Mom, I luff you too muth."

I melted.

She went on, "And I luff Biah too muth. And I luff Mewee too muth. .. and I luff ducky. (the bath toy) I luff ducky the ho why wod." (the whole wide world)

Hmmmm. I've got some competition.

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Me: "Hazel, let's change you up here on the changing table so we don't get dust on your buns."

Hazel: "Don't get dust my buns. Dat dwandess and whood." (dangerous and rude)

Who knew!?!

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Today, like most days, after Hazel was disciplined for disobedience she started crying, "Daddy, daddy." I told her, "Nope. I'm your mother. Daddy's at work." Then she started crying, "I want my Mother Daddy! I want my Mother Daddy!"

When I tried to explain to her that I'm her mother and Daddy is her father she disagreed. "No, you not my mother! You not my mother!"

Oh joy.

Later when she was, once again, being disciplined she called out, "I want my Sugar Daddy! I want my Sugar Daddy!" And no, she's not talking about the candy. She just happens to actually be hearing what I've said before about Nathan being my Sugar Daddy.

So she CAN listen!

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I've always called my kids my "spoiled stinkin' rotten babies". It's what my mom called us. And it's true. It's a term of endearment really.

Hazel and Abiah were arguing about something and Hazel yelled at Abiah, "You, sthink rot baby!" Abiah replied, "I'm not a stinkin' rotten baby. You filthenheimer!" (Daddy's nickname for Abiah) Hazel pointed her chubby finger at Abiah and yelled, "Pretty dress!"

Name calling gone princess.