Mommy knows best, unless you're a child

Tonight's post is a guest spot from my evil twin over at Yes I really DID Just Say That Now STFU. And she doesn't just have a hilarious FB page, but a blog too. If you haven't checked her out, I suggest you do so now! NOW!!

Ok, on with the blog..

Mommy knows best, unless you're a child

I accepted the fact, long ago, that the kiddos will never listen to me the first, second, hell TWENTIETH time I tell them to stop doing something. However, it still baffles me as to how surprised they are when the inevitable happens, and I'm actually right. 

Case in point, today. I swear to fuck, if I don't lose my voice after telling them the "stop (insert whatever expletive suits the situation) right now!" no less than a hundred fucking times, I will buy stock in Sucrets because that stuff must have magic powers that no one is aware of, yet. Who knows? Maybe if I ever find enough money in the laundry to diversify my funds between duct tape, and Sucrets I can secure the kids' futures at the same time. But I digress.

I am sick and fucking tired of repeating myself over and over again, just to have the kids come back to me screaming about how they got hurt, disappointed, sold on Craigslist etc because they chose to ignore me!  I'm the Mom. I know better. End. Of. Story. (Unless they want me to tell them about the dangers of alcohol and smoking. Then all bets are off.)

Back to today. If it's food, the baby is going to eat it. Hell, even if it's not food, she's going to try to eat it. (Unless, of course, it's actually on a plate and at any kind of regularly scheduled meal time.) And she's getting taller. And knows how to move chairs and climb. Over and over, day in and day out, I've told her to stop, she's going to end up getting sick, she's going to hurt herself, blah, blah, blah.

I was cooking dinner tonight. Something I actually enjoy doing. In the middle of my June Clever meets Emeril Lagasse meets the Naked Chef moment of culinary bliss, I turn around to grab the garlic powder. It's gone. Now, I've gotten used to putting away anything dangerous, but when I'm cooking, leaving things like spices on the counter doesn't really sound like that big of a deal, right? WRONG! You see, sometime while I was busy screaming at her siblings looked away for a second, she learned how to unscrew caps. 

I have no idea how she learned this evil new trick because I learned long ago never to teach the kiddos anything that can come back to haunt me later. I'll blame Dora. Or the Wonder Pets. Or, better yet, The Fresh Beat Band--I know they don't actually teach stuff like that, but I hate them and feel that they really need to be blamed for something more than just getting annoying fucking songs stuck in my head for days on end.

Next thing I know, I'm graced with the horrific "GAAAACCKK!!" coming from the living room. Sure enough, there's the baby, with a mouth full of garlic powder, trying desperately to spit/scrape it all out of her mouth. Apparently, that stuff transforms into some sort of super adhesive when consumed "au naturale" and is nearly impossible to get out. (and even funnier to watch someone try to get out) Somehow, in her twisted little mind, I was the one to blame. "Mommy fault!" "Mommy, YUCK!!" "Mommy not tell me!!!" Wait, what?!?!  

Oh, no, little one. You were warned, and you were warned refuckingpeatedly to stop putting everything in your grubby little mouth. You got lucky this time and only had an unpleasant experience that I will have to suffer through during your next diaper change.

I walked away feeling, at least somewhat, gratified that I'd proved my point and dodged a bullet (or stake through the heart), and I won’t have to worry that she’ll be attacked by vampires (the REAL ones, not the glittery little vampire wannabes we have now) until she’s old enough to collect Social Security.

An hour later, I caught her gnawing away happily on a clove of garlic.

What lessons do your children just refuse to learn?