I admit it. The Mama Guilt sometimes gets to me. I'm not doing enough. I'm not doing it quickly enough. I'm lacking SOMEWHERE.
But then I think...whoa! Wait up. What about all the times I twisted myself into knots to make the short people happy?
And so, here are a few (and I'm stressing this word--FEW) of my maternal sacrifices I've made:
I watched an hour and a half of Gumby. (I'll really never be right again.)
I used to watch Barney six times a day. I even took the short people to see him at the Fairgrounds. (THAT'S love. lmao)
I've stayed up all night chewing gum and figuring out which gum is the most "viscous" for a Science Fair Project due the next day. (My jaws STILL hurt.)
I've left work to go pick up the chickens and then come right back. (This is about an hour drive. At THESE gas prices. See what I'm saying?)
I let them drink my Diet Pepsi when they run out of soda.
I've given up sides of my bed when it storms and scares the bejeezus out of all of us.
I've bought underwear for the chickens when I could have used some new unmentionables.
I've run back and forth to a child's friend house because they wanted to spend the night. But they didn't. But they changed their mind again. grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
I killed the spider, cricket, flying bug. (Even though I loathe these creatures and don't want to get near them.)
I've come home from working eight hours after a long day and whipped up a hot dinner.
I've watched Reality Television with the short people.
I've left the house at the 11th hour to pick up whatever emergency supplies the chickens needed.
Do I regret it? Never.
Do I hope my chickens get a taste of this?
1 year ago