We all have ’em. Here are some of mine:
I sometimes have to try REALLY hard not to laugh when my son is sounding out words when we are reading together because he sounds like a dying moose.
I occasionally “borrow” a few bucks from my kids’ piggy banks for takeout when I have no cash on me. Also, my son doesn’t know it, but he paid for his last two school trips, as well as his teacher’s holiday gift, with his very own money. I’ll put it back…..someday.
When I was pregnant, I used to deliberately leave my coat wide open (even in the dead of winter) so people could see my big belly and give me a seat on the train.
I re-gift. When my kids get doubles of something on Christmas or their birthday, or something outside of their age range, I don’t exchange it at the store. It just goes in the good old re-gifting pile up in my attic. Sorry, friends with children. What can I say? These birthday gifts add up.
I broke the blinds and told my husband that my son did it. Twice. Okay, three times. I’m very clumsy.
I have wiped my kids’ noses with my own hand. Many, many times.
I’m a big co-sleeper. My kids honestly believed their crib was just a large prison for stuffed animals. It isn’t because I’m some attachment parenting hippie chick looking to strengthen the bond between mother and child and all that. It’s because I don’t like getting up out of bed in the middle of the night to tend to crying babies.
On that note, I also breastfed my daughter for thirteen months. Go me, right? Wrong. I’d have probably stopped A LOT sooner if she would have just drank from a damn bottle. I thought people were just joking when they said “I’ll stop when the teeth grow in.” They are not kidding. Um, OUCH.
Every time I make my kids a box of mac-n-cheese for lunch, I end up eating half of it. It starts with “just a taste” to make sure it’s cooled off, and goes downhill from there.
My son has been occasionally watching PG-13 movies for a while now. At his four-year-old checkup, while lying on the examination table, he reenacted a scene from the first Ghostbusters movie where a woman is possessed and rambling demonically. I had to tell his doctor that he was “in a big monster phase.”
We sometimes eat McDonalds. And Burger King. And Wendy’s. Not often, but it happens. It’s cheap, easy, and freakin’ delicious. Get over it, Jamie Oliver.
Neither of my children have ever watched a single episode of Barney. I simply won’t allow it. Of all the obnoxious TV shows for kids out there, and believe me, my kids have seen them all, I draw the line right in front of that big purple jackass.
My son often watches TV on school nights. From the TV in his bedroom. He knows how to operate Netflix and he picks out whatever he wants. Usually I can hear whatever he’s watching to know that it’s okay for kids, but one time my husband caught him watching Breaking Bad. Whoops.
I accidentally turned the hot water on my daughter during a bath when she was two weeks old, resulting burns on her leg, arm, and back. I honestly thought I wasn’t fit to be a mother anymore, until I found out that almost everyone has their own “I almost killed my own kid” story. It doesn’t usually happen even before the umbilical cord falls off, or result in spending a whole night in the hospital, but whatever. She’s alive now, right?
When my son was a baby, we didn’t buy him any Christmas gifts. Blobs don’t care about gifts.
Every morning, I find myself psychotically screaming at my son to make sure he’s brushed his teeth before we leave for school, as though there will be a dentist standing outside each classroom checking for plaque buildup and bad breath. Yet on the weekends, if I even remember to ask if his teeth are brushed, it’s usually a lot closer to dinnertime than breakfast.
The last parenting book I read was What To Expect When You’re Expecting. The best piece of parenting advice I ever heard didn’t come from some hoity-toity parenting book or child-rearing expert; it came from a stand-up comedian. Louis CK, a hilarious, divorced single dad who regularly jokes about how miserable his kids make him, had something to say in one of his acts that led me to reexamine the way I view child punishment.
(sorry for the shitty quality).
As I’m writing these, I’m beginning to wonder if you are all nodding your heads in agreement, or teetering on calling CPS.
So what are your dirty little mommy secrets?