Dear Little CEO and Boy Wonder,
Hi. It’s me, Mom.
Some of my blog readers have been asking why I don’t write daily humor posts anymore. At this time last year, I was bringing the funny every damn day. Oops. Sorry. Mommy didn’t mean to use an inappropriate word. Do as I say, not as I do.
I, too, have noticed the shortage of humor around my blog of late. Sure, every now and then I write a funny post, but it’s not like it was back in the day.
I had chalked it up to how much I have been working. Did you know it takes a lot of hours to write funny blog posts? And I was neglecting my poor little baby blog.
But upon further reflection, it can’t be blamed on my schedule.
It’s completely your fault.
You guys are just not that funny anymore. And it’s really cramping the style of this freaking blog. I mean, freestyle blog. Mom did not mean to use another inappropriate word.
Peeps, the blog is called KludgyMom. I’m supposed to be writing my harried tales of half-assed, haphazard parenting. Shit! I swore again. And again. Not half-assed. Sorry.
Where is all of your material? You’re killing me up in here.
Remember the good old days, when I could write about poop in your underwear? Or screaming meltdowns at Chick-Fil-A? Or the night before Easter when I tried to lay out candy as a bunny trail across the upstairs of the house and you refused to go to sleep until 2 a.m.?
I’m not saying stay up until 2, by the way. But give me something to work with. ANYTHING.
Am I feeding you the wrong things? Do I need to start you on a heavy diet of Pixy Stix, like the moms on Toddlers and Tiaras? That seems to get those kids in performing mode in a hot minute.
I don’t get crap around here anymore.
I get the same played-out fight between the two of you. You start by playing some made-up game nicely. Soon it turns into wrestling and giggling. Then, Boy Wonder, you perform a crescent kick to your sister’s solar plexus, followed by a knife-hand strike to her neck. Little CEO then lets out the Shrieking Wail of Pain: “Booooooooooooooooy Wooooooooooooooooooooooonder! STOP it! <incomprehensible moaning sound>”
How many times do you expect me to write about that? At least mix it up, for God’s sake.
The best material you’ve given me in months was when Little CEO told me my face looked fat in the rear view mirror of the car, but that I was still pretty, and then Boy Wonder made it all better by saying, “Yeah, but you have a bunch of ZITS, Mom.”
That actually wasn’t even funny. It kind of made me want to kick you in the balls. I mean, privates. We don’t say balls in this house.
I understand that y’all are growing up. Boy, you’re almost 9. CEO, you’re almost 7. I guess I just wasn’t ready to lose all of my blog fodder so soon. I mean, I’m all ready for you to move out of the house. But I’m not ready for you to turn off the spigot of writing material. I’m really not.
If somebody had told me that kids stop being all that funny at age 9 and 7, I wouldn’t have started a parenting blog. So I beg you both to pull it together and work a little bit on your sense of humor. Otherwise, I’ll have to go back to food blogging. And we all know how much my food blogging sucks ass. I mean, it’s not Mom’s true talent.
I didn’t say ass.
Love and Kisses,