|You fooled me, Mom.|
Confessions to my children that you will not hear from my mouth until you, yourselves, are parents:
--- I hated making my bunk bed growing up. Tucking sheets and blankets into the rails is the worst. Somehow though, I willingly purchased a twin over full bunk bed with a trundle when I was pregnant with Ryan (well, if that doesn't give away our family plan hopes ...). And now, since Ryan isn't exactly capable of making the bed beside tossing a throw pillow or two on, I make the bunk bed.
And I still hate it. Yay, siblings sharing rooms. Boo, bunk beds.
--- I haven't made our bed that doesn't even have pesky side rails in three weeks.
--- I tell Ryan that he can't eat all the cheese while I am grating it. Yet, somehow half the block makes it into my mouth whenever he looks away.
--- Every night I tell Ryan how important it is to close his eyes and get some sleep. Hours after he finally caved to the power of my silent sleep, baby, sleep mantra, I am still awake, probably staring at a wall or someone's brunch on Instagram, not listening to my own advice.
---I'll most likely take away whatever hypothetical electronic device that connects you to the rest of the world, but disconnects you from me even though I am right next to you. Yeah, I've checked three different social media apps in the short time span of typing these confessions on, get this ... another electronic device.
--- I can't stand wearing itchy clothes, too. I'm sorry if I buy you a wool sweater.
--- I do actually know where those nonsensical number books went. Out of your sight and reach.
--- Ryan gets a time out when he throws a tantrum whenever I innocently bring him the wrong (according to him!) food. Did I get a time out for this? No.
Read this quick because pretty soon it will be filed away with a number of old photos.