If we’re friends on Facebook and in Real Life, you’ll likely notice a common theme regarding posts about my children. They’re a pack of wild animals.
It’s my fault, really. I don’t particularly care if the kids beat the shit out of each other as long as they don’t do it in public (I don’t want to look like a bad parent) or beat up other people’s children (because again, I don’t want to look like a bad parent).
I mean, I used to make half-hearted attempts to stop them. After all, isn’t their taking kung fu supposed to teach them discipline and proper shit kicking etiquette, et al.? And again, aren’t I supposed to care that my three children are often mostly naked and all I hear are their little fists pounding against each other’s flesh?
But then I realized that I don’t actually care and trying to tear apart my barbarians only pisses me off. I yell and try to enforce rules about not hurting each other only to get kicked in the face or whatever and quite frankly, it’s not worth it to me. If they wan’t to punch and kick each other, they are welcome to it.
In fact, I’ve gotten to the point where I tell them that if they hurt each other in the course of their actions, to not come to me and cry about it because I will just tell them it’s their own fault and that’s what happens when you beat the shit out of each other. It hurts.
They are a pack of vicious dogs.
Also? The keyword for this post really should be, “Beat the shit out of each other.” Seems to be a recurrent phrase.
So, in light of my children being a horde of uncivilized assholes, I submit to you the Top 20 Reasons Why I Actually Live in a Fraternity House:
1) To steal from Irish Twins, my life is full of genitals and injuries. If that’s not frat life, I don’t know what is.
2) My house smells a lot like farts and dirty socks. And rotting food. Especially in the couch area. Not sure why. And I may never discover the true reason (other than my children have sieves for mouths).
3) The floor is crunchy. And sticky.
4) The house is in complete disrepair. I’m missing blind slats, the carpet is for shit, there is not a surface that has not been urinated on (or hasn’t touched a naked bottom), floor tiles are loose, a toilet seat has been cracked for years, certain bathtubs have a permanently loose hot water handle that keeps falling off, and there are random “imperfections” in our walls.
5) I’m not sure what we eat, but I think it’s a lot of nuggets, pizza, and fries.
6) Did I mention that we have a lot of injuries?
7) And exposed genitals??
8) There are countless hours of Halo, Minecraft, and YouTube being played.
9) I am always finding random socks shoved in weird places. But always only one sock. Never a pair.
10) My children know what a trash can is for. And yet, this knowledge somehow doesn’t translate into using it.
11) There are armies and armies of empty plastic cups laying around on flat surfaces.
12) Conversations are basically one long fart, poop, or pee joke.
13) Someone is always being wrestled, sat upon, punched, kicked, yelled at, or light-sabered.
14) No one goes to sleep at a reasonable hour.
15) The backyard is full of debris from destroyed plastic toys and disintegrated chalk and sand and rocks and miscellaneous crap.
16) Someone is always climbing or jumping or falling off of a chair/bannister/couch/random hangy thingy.
17) We are always out of food.
18) There is rarely any homework or “learning” going on. Did I mention that I homeschool?
19) Not a day goes by without at least one mention of penis, “gagina,” or butthole.
20) And finally, there are a lot of “fucks” thrown around (though to be fair, that is mostly from me).
So there you have it. Please tell me I’m not the only one?
Also, I’m pretty sure none of my friends will ever consent to come over ever again. Not unless I steam clean and/or bleach every possible surface area of my house. (And even with that, they will have to come over immediately after this deep steam occurs because otherwise, my house will revert to its base state of grossness.)
Hope you have a wonderful Memorial Day. See you soon!