If you could read my mind, love, what a tale my thoughts could tell...

..Yah, and social services would be ringing my doorbell before I finished posting.

I try so hard to not be the grumpy mom. I smile, I consciously lower and soften my voice as a trained reaction to the inane standoff that inevitably happens when we are say,I don't know, doing THE EXACT same fucking thing that we do every morning! But underneath the smile, the kind, soft voice, reminding them to put on their shoes and their coats, I am cussing, shouting, committing horrific acts of violence and even having insane conversations with my other personalities.


"Honey, please put down the truck and go put your shoes on".

PUT YOUR FUCKING SHOES ON. HOW FUCKING HARD CAN IT BE? No, I don't give a flying fuck about your stupid fucking picture, put it the fuck down and put on your fucking coat you little shit. Or you know what I am going to take your little fucking shoes and I am going to throw them in the garbage along with all of the other stupid fucking shit you leave around the house. PUT YOUR FUCKING SHOES ON.