I thought if I gave a sample of her work there might be a few more people willing to help out. So here is one of her gems.
Ways I've Traumatized Children (Mostly Mine)
Here lately, I've been losing what little filter I have going on that whole brain to mouth thing. Granted, it wasn't a foolproof deal to begin with, but y'all, it's getting bad. We're talking bad. However, I thought I would put it into perspective for you. Also, I swear I'm not this mean to kids all the time. Swear.
Also, I'm not a bad person... I think.
When Morgan was in the first grade, I once lost my ever lovin' crap and told him and his brother that, when they pitch fits (not meltdowns, fits), they make Jesus cry. Oh, and Santa and the angels weep. That was a fun letter home from the teacher. The phone call was even better.
I accidentally (seriously, it just flew out) told Morgan, as a toddler, "Honey, don't eat out of the trashcan. Vagrants do that." I was on the phone with my cousin at the time. She won't let me live it down.
One year, Bay kept misbehaving- a lot- around Christmas. I mean, nonstop. So... Santa made a little midnight visit to his room... He trashed it with toilet paper, wrapping paper, and left a note, along with Santa's watchman (our version of Elf on the Shelf, much creepier), and a lump of real coal.
I told Bay that if he doesn't stop the nose picking and eating, his teeth will turn green like the Grinch's. Not so bad, right? Well, then I had my friend, Sherie, who works in the dental field, back me up by going into full detail what dentists do to grinchy teeth. She pretty much rocks in my book. This really didn't stop Morgan, however, from doing the same.
I've bacon shamed my child. He's never done it again and I put it on Facebook.
He wasn't that sad, promise. I told him to look sadder.
I publicly shame my children for the weird and bad crap they do on Facebook, especially when it's funny. Not so much anymore because now I can just snap my fingers and say, "I think this deserves a Facebook status." Then, I'll hear cries of "Nooooo! Please don't put this on Facebook!" See, they want y'all to think they're little angels and not hellions. They actually fall somewhere in between.
I told Morgan once that there were no more Handy Manny shows in existence ever. That was around the same time that I had him go to the window to watch for Dora so I could pee alone or just with one child watching. I didn't know he was autistic then, okay?
When my kids asked me where babies came from, I showed them a (cleanish) YouTube video of a woman giving birth. That might not have been well thought out. Morgan ran around yelling, "Turn that OFF! OFF! NOW! NOW! NOW!" Bay sat there, very quietly... then he asked, "But I thought I didn't come out of your vagina. Is there a video for that?" So I showed him a cesarean. That, apparently, is worse. He actually turned green when he figured out that he could have peed inside of my uterus. Whoops.
I once told someone's kid (who is a complete hell spawn) that the presents under the tree are probably from his parents pretending to be Santa, not the big guy himself because he's so damned nasty. This was after the kid had hit my kids over the head with God knows what, broken my stuff, and his mom did nothing. I can't imagine why that friendship didn't last.
This is how I make Bay have a public timeout, complete with me setting my timer to go off the the nuclear holocaust alarm when the time runs out:
Yes, I used sanitizer after this. Because, eww.
Last year, we had a bitch of a neighbor in one of the buildings in our complex. So, when trick-or-treating rolled around, I told my kids (jokingly) that there was an evil witch in that apartment building. Morgan, being Morgan, has never forgotten that. And he wound up being really curious as to which of our neighbors was the evil witch. “Is that the evil witch, Mommy?” he’d ask, despite me telling him that I’d lied.
At one point, we were entering our apartment and another neighbor was coming up the stairs… Morgan blurted out to her, “I don’t care what Mommy says, I don’t think you’re an evil witch at all! I think you’re nice, you’re sweet, and you’re kind.” Well, hell. That’s another neighbor who wouldn’t talk to me after that.
Also, last night (I can blame the pain killers my doc has me on for this), I told a kid who was climbing on the outside of a stair well, second story, "You shouldn't do that. If you fall, you'll crack open your head. You'll probably die. And your mom is sitting right there, not watching you, so I'm not dialing 9-1-1."
Yep, filter is gone. It's a good thing I don't get out much.
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