An open letter to the sadist who came up with this
brilliant phrase:
“There is no use in
crying over spilled milk.”
I have so many words for you.
First off, I would bet every last penny in my kid’s piggy
bank that you are one of those parenting experts who has all this vast child
rearing knowledge only because the closest thing to a child you have is a pet
iguana named Steve. When Steve spills his water you don’t cry. You create a
lake of love.
And for those of you whispering behind my back about using
my kid’s money for gambling endeavors you heard me right. My children have
stolen my sanity, my snacks, and my skin's elasticity. They can spare me 45
pennies to do a little online gambling. Mommy needs her hobbies too.
Second off, have you ever cleaned up a large amount of water
or food spilled on the floor? I think not. Because if you had you would be
recanting your statement real quick. You know what happens when large amounts
of liquid is spilled in my house? My kids suddenly think the splash pad has
relocated in our kitchen. And not just any splash pad, a naked one. Have you ever
had three naked children attempt to slip and slide in a gallon of juice? It isn’t
pretty. Citrusy, yes. Pretty, no.
It is OK to cry guys. In the iconic words of one of our
nation’s wisest leaders (Justin Timberlake) cry me a river! Take that Steve the Iguana. You may have a lake of love, but my children have a river of their
mother's own tears. I win.
All of this ranting is leading to today’s special story my
friends, fear not.
First a little back story. Audrey cannot eat colored cereal.
You know those memes of unicorns pooping rainbows? I have always known Audrey
was some special kind of unicorn, but the fact that she poops rainbows when
eating artificially dyed cereal only confirms this. This morning I busted out a
brand new family sized box of cheerios. Audrey was pleased, and ate 36.876
helpings.
Today for lunch I made Chicken Tetrazzini. I knew it was
more than likely my children would attempt to eat their napkin over any meal that I
cook, but if I am anything it is ever the optimist.
Or stupid. Call it like you see it.
I have this casserole premade to give you a time frame of
the crime scene.
I run upstairs real fast to put said torture device(aka tetrazzini casserole) in the
oven. Then I pat myself on the back for completing my daily
work out, as I do my cool down by slowly walking down the stairs gasping for
breath.
Cue my eyes bleeding from horror. Rough estimate here, but I
would say there are about 35,000 pieces of cheerios strewn about my basement
floor. Audrey is attempting to do the breast stroke through this catastrophe
while also shoving fistfuls of carpet cereal in her mouth.
Would you like to know how many cheerios remain in the box?
3.
What do I do you ask? I wipe a glistening tear from my eye,
turn around without a word and get the vacuum. Audrey ever the helpful child
that she is then attempts to shove the cereal up the vacuum as I work, one
piece at a time, obviously. About halfway through my vacuum decides it hates me
as much as my children do and decides it is done with this ridiculousness. Cue
my crawling on my hands and knees picking up the 20,000 pieces of cereal I did
not vacuum up, while Audrey gives me love pats on the ass.
When I finally finish, I turn around to find Audrey calming
observing me while eating a bag of Doritos. Do I have any idea where these Doritos
came from? Absolutely not. At this point
I just ask her to share and we split the snack that is only slightly wet from
my salty tears.
The lesson here: Cry over the milk. Cry over the cereal. Then
combine the two and call it dinner, because you know those kids didn’t eat that
tetrazzini.
To my brethren in the struggle I say to you, we must find
the humor in these situations or else we will find ourselves in a jail cell.
Love and light from another momma in the struggle <3
