9. On more than one occasion, you have considered maliciously throwing “the towel” that now inhabits your entry way floor across the room. You know the one I am talking about. The one for wet boots that is encrusted in salt. Actually, pardon me, the one that your kids are supposed to put their wet boots on but never seem to notice so the towel remains in a messy pile surrounded by wet, muddy boots with rings of white salt slowly crystalizing on the floor around each one. That fucking towel. I despise the sight of it.
8. You’ve come to realize that the whole gloves, mittens, boots, jackets, hats, sleds, shovels, snowman charade that your kids put you through has ONE and only one end game: hot fucking chocolate. The thought of hot chocolate (and all that precedes it) now gives you a migraine.
7. You have resorted to allowing your kids to do crazy shit just so they can get energy out. After they’re done scaling the outer rail of the staircase, you pop in your old boot camp dvds. At this point it’s not desperate, it’s genius. (And at least someone is using them….)
6. Just thinking about the hours between 4pm-7pm makes you nauseous. And anxious. Yeah, that’s it… a bad combo of the two. If you have to spend even one more hour confined within the walls of your home trying to keep your kids entertained you might commit yourself. And don’t even get me started on my feelings of ill-will towards the person that invented that crazy sand crap. “It’s mess-less!” Really? No. You can go fuck yourself.
5. You have serious bouts of guilt when you think about all the tv and screen time your kids have had this winter. Well, shit! What the hell are you supposed to do all day when you are prisoners to -20 degree wind chills? Which leads me to fucking Pinterest and their happy go-lucky suggestions for surviving the winter with kids….
4. Thank you Pinterest, but I don’t want to build a fucking snowman. I don’t want to build one outside and I sure as shit don’t want to build one in my living room.
3. You’ve officially de-friended everyone who lives south of Charleston on account of them all being assholes. Enough with the “Oh, its 57 degrees and SO cold. Better dust off my winter jacket!” status updates. Really? Really? My kids think that anything above 33 degrees is “warm” and refuse to wear jackets. If it were 57 degrees, they’d probably ask to go swimming.
2. You are so over the fucking germs. Even if you wanted to emerge from your house, you can’t because someone is always sick. Stomach bug here. Fever there. Snotty noses everywhere. Here’s an idea, if you are sick, don’t leave your damn house, people! We’ve beens stuck in the damn house for a month. So much for ANYONE’s social life.
1. You are certifiably, unquestionably, no doubt, going fucking insane.
Related post: Dear Parent who Likes Snow Days