The Best Explanation As To Why I’m A B!tch

As mothers, we are constantly trying to justify our moods.

It’s probably time for my period, I’ll say when my husband gently asks why I am hiding in the closet taking deep breaths.

Or perhaps, I haven’t been sleeping well.

Or the good ol’, Maybe I’m fighting something.

But ladies, it is time to be honest. I am grumpy because I have three small children. And girl, these precious baby angels are my heart and my soul but some days I can do nothing to quell the frustration that takes hold after 10 hours alone with these [cherished] beasts.

I’m done making excuses. I’m going to be real.

I’m losing my shit by 4pm because I have literally mopped up spilled water off of the floor SEVEN TIMES TODAY. My two-year-old is constantly knocking over his cup and though I have warned him approximately 5,695 times, he still does it. We’re working on him learning to clean up his own messes but as I said, he’s two. So basically he just turns the puddle of water into a puddle of mud.

I’m also losing my shit because my four-year-old and my six-year-old are participating in a love/hate relationship right now. This means that they do not want to be separated but the mere sound of the other’s voice forces them into battle. And I, forever the maker of peace, am responsible for teaching these two heathens what it means to use their goddamn words.

Another thing to add to my list of reasons why I am not a nice person is the fact that having three little kids means that my house in a state of perpetual DISASTER. There are land mines made of Legos, Barbie hands sticking out precariously from beneath couch cushions, and action figures line my hallway like fallen soldiers. Every time I pick up one room, the little bastards have messed up another. It is an act of futility. Yet like many women, I persist.

I am also responsible for grocery shopping. In an effort to use my time wisely, this usually means that I take all of the kids with me at prime melt down time– right after we pick up the eldest and everyone is super tired.

Let me set the scene for you: child #1 and child #2 are “responsible” for a kiddie cart in the grocery store.

They are not good drivers.

These two are constantly running into shelves and hitting the heels of the elderly. Child #3 is a toucher. He touches strange women’s behinds. He feels up oranges. He breaks the cellophane wrap so he can finger raw chicken. We move down the aisles like a wave of destruction. My banshee voice can be heard in every corner, like a foreman who is trying to wrangle a crew of drunk construction workers.

Additionally, I work from home. I sit down at the computer, write one sentence and someone needs a snack. I get back, figure out where I was, and someone has peed on the floor. I start to walk back towards the office and child #2 has tried to stick a chopstick up the nose of child #3. What should take me an hour takes me five instead.

My four-year-old is in the crying/screaming phase.

My two-year-old wants to be held 24/7, even when he takes a dump. He likes to lean back against me and use my arms for leverage.

Needless to say, I know why I am tired. I know why I am annoyed. I know why I look exasperated and mean and crazy.

I’m a bitch because I am a mother to small children.

The end.