Out of the mouths of moms

Parenthood hasn’t been exactly what I expected. Idylic moments watching my children roll wooden cars down grassy knolls in between cooperative games and cuddle breaks are far outweighed by crazed flashes of ducking for cover, preventing attacks and pretending to be a superhero/villain. Instead of reading Emily Dickinson and Little Women, I’m reading books about Daddies that die in tragic portapotty accidents only to be ressurected as zombies/vampires, underpants heroes complete with toilet humor, and malodorous ghosts.

Sometimes I’m shocked by the unreasonable tone of my words, or the sudden anger that raises its head in the form of sarcasm or snark. The most unexpected though, are the calm, measured sentences full of images that would have made no sense when motherhood was still an imaginary magic kingdom.

I’m sharing some here, in hopes that others will share theirs as well. Here goes:

No honey, that’s not a sword, it’s a dagger.

You may not throw guns in the house.

Snot is not food. (technically, I overheard Kevin saying this gem)

Pants are required at restaurants. That’s a rule.

No, you may not stab your brother.

If you pick your nose, at least wipe your fingers on a tissue instead of my pillow.

Here’s your granola bar with both kinds of sugar sprinkled on it.

It isn’t safe to bang your head on the glass window.

Yes, sweetie, I know you’re angry, but I won’t cut off your brother’s head.

What are some of yours?