I’m just kidding. I didn’t write a book. But if I were to write a book, it would be something like this one.
*Side Note: what’s truly shocking about this picture is not so much the book, but the fact that I was up at 9:17pm to take this picture! WTH!! (and I had 50% battery life??? … must have been a good day)
Maybe I should write a book about ways I’ve ALREADY traumatized my children. A cautionary tale, perhaps? Although I don’t think there are enough trees in the forest for that novel.
I’m pretty sure saying “what would you do if I were DEAD??” is probably not the best method to get your children to be more independent.
Or developing a “fuck it” attitude at least three nights a week in relation to dinner. Cereal is a food group in our house.
How about screaming, “I’m going INSANE!” on a daily basis – with a wild crazed look in my eye? I’m thinking not good.
One time, after dealing with a cordless phone that only occasionally worked (basically when it damn well felt like it), I calmly opened the back door and threw it at the rocks in our backyard. As it shattered all over the yard, the Hubs hurriedly scurried the kids away while in the background I laughed maniacally. That’s not trauma, is it? I might put it in the book. MIGHT.
Or all the times, especially when they were little, when I threw them in the car and drove around the globe aimlessly just so they were buckled in and unable to wreak havoc. “Where are we going, Mommy?” … “We’re going to find sanity, sweeties. SANITY!” I growled through clenched teeth. “Where’s that, Mommy?” … “It doesn’t exist!! IT DOESN’T EXIST!!!!! Hahahahahahahahahaha”
I’m thinking this could be a bestseller, right? Or at least land me in jail. Where, by the way, I get three meals a day that I don’t have to make and a semi-quiet bedroom where I can read all day.
Sounds like heaven.