Dear Super Nanny,
I used to have a teeny tiny bit of control over my children…once upon a time, a long, long time ago.
When they were little. And the worse problem I had was dragging them out of Target, kicking and screaming, leaving behind a full shopping cart. *smiles fondly at that memory*
They are bigger now. And louder. And smellier. And messier.
And they don’t listen to me. Even when I’m screaming and throwing things at them. And it’s harder to drag them out of places, unless I grab them by their hair and lead them roughly to the exit. But then, I’m frowned upon and Social Services shows up at my door.
No biggie…the charges were dropped…
Let’s talk about our chore assignments in order to get allowance.
Let’s just say…they owe me money. And I really need to collect it because I saw this really cool, yet to be released, Wii workout game and I put a deposit on it but, I’ll still owe 55 bucks towards it when it’s released…ANYWAY…
But I’ll never get to use that said game. Because I’ll be too busy doing all their chores. And picking up their crap. And monitoring their online life. And doing their…er…forcing them to do their homework.
I. Need. Help.
I want to be able to proudly write about how well-behaved and angelic all my kids are. Just like my favorite blogs that I read and leave feeling…well…jealous.
Dear Dr. Phil,
See note to Super Nanny.
Then go on to add…
I take no blame in the lack of control over my children. In fact, it’s all my damn husbands fault. And while we are at it, it’s my ex-husbands fault. And my husbands ex-wife is part of the problem. And my parents. And my in-laws.
I’m the victim here. Being stepped on. And run over. And taken advantage of. By those children.
Can you help me? Before I start doing crystal meth. And whoring around. And neglecting my kids. Or worse…
Compulsively shopping on eBay while eating Hot Tamales.
go on…enter the awesome Dinosaur book giveaway. Go here