Jackson dropped the F-bomb today. I am 100% certain I did not misunderstand him. I wish I could say that he learned it from his father, but that’s only partially true. I could tell you that I try not to curse much, but that would also be only partially true.
The truth is, I think about cursing less. I censor myself in front of most people. But, I curse. A lot.
Apparently within earshot of the 4-year-olds. Excellent.
I could also tell you that other than the occasional curse word, I was an excellent mom today. But, it would not be true. I should have known it was going to be a bad day when my alarm went off at 5:30 and I turned it off and went back to sleep.
For two more hours.
The plan was to get up at 5:30 so Taryn and I could go on a long bike ride before the twinkies woke up. That way John would only have to make sure the house did not burn down, instead of doing actual childcare.
Instead I got up at 7:30, got dressed, and woke Taryn and John. The twinkies woke up before Taryn and I left, which made me feel guilty for messing up the original plan. So, I poured their cereal, laid out a blanket in the living room, and turned on Cars. I told them they were having a “BREAKFAST INDOOR PICNIC!!” They were very excited. I’m pretty sure John slept on the couch the whole time we were gone.
After the bike ride I took the twinkies to the indoor playground. Because they needed to burn some energy and it was cold and damp stupid Alaska summer day. On the way home Taryn and I planned to stop at the grocery store and Costco.
Reese had other ideas.
Before leaving we made a potty break. He peed all over his pants. I think he did it on purpose. I could have driven home and gotten him a clean pair of pants. I could have skipped the shopping. I did neither of those things. I soaked up as much of the pee as I could with the bathroom paper towels and drove on.
I forgot all about the pee until Reese climbed on Dallas’ lap at dinner. Woops.
At the grocery store Reese stole a piece of candy. You know those big, stupid bins of bulk candy? I hate those. Anyway, he stole a Werther’s. I didn’t realize it until we were half way to Costco. Actually, I did not realize at all, Taryn did. She’s a way better parent than I am.
I should have turned the car around and made him take the wrapper back and apologize, like any good sitcom mom. I did not. I scolded him and drove on. (A Werther’s? Yuck. At least he could have stolen a good candy.)
Then Jackson said the F-word. I scolded him. He looked at me like he wanted to kill me. Seriously, what business do I have yelling at him when I probably said the word 3 times today? (By 3 I mean 30)
Later, when the stupid dog barked to come in, Jackson said, “Oh man, you freaking dog!”
At least he said freaking. He’s learning not to copy verbatim. Maybe I’m not such a bad mommy after all…