Four females in one house… FOUR! Let it be known now that I used to pray for 10 kids and I wanted all girls. What I didn’t know I was getting at the time was all my dang clothes missing. Where’s my makeup kids? Has anyone seen the hairbrush? Why are you crying… why are you angry? What emotion is that?! Is that fingernail polish on the mirror? Oh honey, those are waxing strips not stickers, eeekkk!
My washer malfunctioned last week and so on Sunday when my amazing self fixed her right up I did TEN loads of laundry! Ten loads and this morning I wake up to not 1 but all my kids prancing around in my clothes.
You may think well you have little Maleah and she into sports and picks up hulk mask at stores to chase people around, almost all her friends are boys and she’d be the first to tackle anyone messing with her but the girl has an extreme feminine side. She cries while watching full house, loves to model and has a very nurturing personality! Don’t let her fool you, I’ve seen her scavenging through my stuff… nothing is safe here.
And who the heck is this Jo Jo chick with the big bows? Why do we need all her stuff and why does it all look like something the 80’s puked on? Kali, on the other end of the spectrum wants all this Billie Eilish crap, blue hair, baggy clothes… mom can I get my nose pierced… no ma’am. Then I get the clap back, well you have your nose pierced! You don’t want to have this fight with me kid. You won’t win.
I couldn’t tell you if boys are any easier because I have none. However I grew up with 6 brothers and I feel like I escaped death on a daily basis. A friend of mine has boys and has sent some photos of daily activities like climbing up trees and sorts, it gives me angina… go on girls, you go right ahead and paint that bathroom mirror to match your toes, I’m cool with it now.
Thanks for reading my morning mom rant. I know I’ll miss these days when they are off to college, living their adult lives… or perhaps I’ll be sitting on the beach writing a novel without the worry of the neighbors calling the police for a domestic violence dispute over the screaming sounds of little children fighting over who was looking at who first. That was the longest sentence I’ve ever wrote.