When People Are Mean

Oh, Lord, y’all. I’ve already shared this part of myself with you. I have a few pet peeves, but the number one tear-my-hair-out, blindly screaming, call your mother and tell her what you did peeve is meanness. When someone is mean to me or someone I love I go from super chill Becca to white trash redneck angry girl whose name is not pronounceable through her gritted teeth. Having a child has taken these psychotic episodes to another level-and because usually the perpetrator is aged in the single digits, I have to control myself during these times more than ever. Have you ever wanted to grab a 6-year-old by the ear and drag him away while his mother watched? No. Uh. Right. Me neither. Continue reading

My Toddler Doesn’t Talk And It’s All My Fault

My day today-and most days this week:

Mommy: Do you want up? Say, “Up!” and I’ll pick you up. Say, “Up!”

Jack: WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA YOU ARE THE WORST PARENT EVER!

Mommy: Say, “Up!” As soon as you say it, I’ll pick you up.

Jack: WAAAAAAAAAAA WHY HAST THOU FORSAKEN ME?!

REPEAT.  Five hundred times. Continue reading