I wish I was superman.
The guy has skills. Skills that I want, and I want them now!
I want to have super speed, cuz then I could whip around the house and clean it up faster than my kids have time to destroy it.
I want to have super strength so I can lift heavy things myself instead of having to wait months before my husband gets around to moving heavy things for me.
Ryan always complains, “what can’t you lift that yourself?”
“Well, maybe if I was a 200 lbs. weight lifter I could dumbass… if you wanted someone that could lift heavy things you should’ve married a sasquatch instead of a pixie like me.” I snap.
*sigh*
He always thinks he’s hard done by. He calls himself my beast of burden, cuz I’m always getting him to do things for me. He can lift things, he’s very strong. Stronger than the average Joe Blow, unfortunately for me, he is just lazy. If he can find an excuse not to do anything he does. He’s the King of Excuses. All hail the King. I hate having to ask him to move stuff, so if there’s some sort of drug I can take to become superman let me know.
I want to have x-ray vision and super hearing so I can see and hear that my 2 year old is once again terrorizing the house.
It’s true what the collective “they” say about having 4 kids. It’s no different than having 3. It’s lots of fun and lots of work. When people find out I have 4 kids they smile sympathetically with wide scared eyes and say, “Wow, you must be busy!.” Busy is an understatement. There are days when I feel like crawling under a rock and disappearing, but then small chubby hands come up and grab my hand.
Little brown doe-eyed Brandon comes up to give me a kiss and a hug… and for a moment everything is wonderful until he pulls back, looks into my eyes and says, “sooay” (translation: sorry). Then hands me a black permanent marker and smiles apologetically. *sigh* I ask him to show me where his “art work” is so I can see his the full extent of his terror. He takes me downstairs and shows me the computer monitor. Great… now I’m staring through black lines which I suppose some would call art. GAH!
I swear nothing will teach you patience like kids and a husband.
Now I know why on my wedding day when I was on the way to get married in my wedding dress a guy leaned out of his truck window and screamed, “Don’t do it! Don’t do it! Stop now while you can!”
I looked at him like he was a retard… obviously he had experience in the area and I was the retarded one…
Flying would be nice, I could just fly away to another freakn’ planet and leave this chaos behind.
Dear, Superman
Hey big guy, Can you please pass along some of your special abilities so I can cope with this crazy life I have created for myself? Sooner than later would be nice, cuz I’m not sure how long my sanity will last. Thanks, I’d appreciate it!
Sincerely,
Joanne