My brother sent me this video:
This funny lady can be found at http://thatsinappropriate.com/
I couldn’t help but think, Wow, her thoughts are way nicer than mine.
Here’s my responses:
- What I think: My whole life can be summerized in three words: She cleans poop. It’s seriously all I do. Kid poop. Dog poop. Cat poop. Chicken poop. Horse poop. Mystery poop. Unclogging poop. Trying to find who stepped in poop. Making sure everyone is pooping regularly, but not too regularly. Poop. Poop. Poop. Poop. Poop. Poop. Poop. This is why I don’t have friends. Nobody wants to hang out with someone whose entire life revolves around poop. What do you think about that protest? Hmm. I don’t know, was there poop? I don’t think I can do this for the rest of my life. It’s going to be in my obituary: Died of poop. What I say: “Keep your hands out of it until I get there and don’t say butt.”
- What I think: I am pretty sure the evidence of me seeing your homework is the fact that your homework is actually done and in your backpack. That, alone, is an accomplishment. Do they know what this house is like between four and eight? No. They don’t. If they did, they would give me a gold star just for sending you with shoes. Why do I have to sign a square saying I saw your homework. Oh. Because you’ll get in trouble if I don’t. Yes. Because that makes sense. Public school: Finding more stupid ways to make my life suck since 2005. I wish I homeschooled. Why can’t you just forge it like your sister? Morals. I’m trying to teach them morals. Oh, you wrote down that you read for 20 minutes. That’s strange, because I’m pretty sure you haven’t read anything since before Christmas, but yes, 20 minutes. Fine. What I say: “Good job! There you go. Put it in your backpack. Now pick a book so you can read.”
- What I think: Pokemon? No. Just no. Pokemon has been the bane of my existence since 1999. I would rather do laundry in purgatory than play Pokemon. Go ask your dad, he is the one responsible for you knowing about Pokemon in the first place. What I say: Wait…that is what I say.
Thanks for the laugh “That’s Inappropriate.” That was fun. Life as a mom, right?
PS: Right this very moment, my daughter came in asking me to see how much horse manure she shoveled, and can I please pay her for it? Poop. I tell you, my entire life revolves around poop.
PPS. It is 1:13 am and I woke up from a dead sleep because I smelled… can you guess? Dog poop. I just got done hunting down the offending odor. This is how I spend my life people. Surprise! It’s not dog poop. It’s the pork roast I popped in the crock pot before bed. I hate the smell of cooking pork so much that that I equate it -in my sleep- to dog poop. This is not the first time this has happened either. Soaking beans has a similar effect. Guess what Sweetie’s favorite foods are? G’night.