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“A suburban mother’s role is to deliver children obstetrically once, and by car forever after.” ~ Peter De Vries

First I want to start off this post by thanking Danielle Jefferson of Things Carter Says for filling in yesterday while my family and I celebrated the twins 13th birthday. Then I want to tell you all that I’ve been banned from writing about my kids anymore since the Max’s Day of Reckoning post. Really? After all we mom’s put up with and they can’t even give us one thing — a blog in which to spill all our family secrets to the whole world (OK the 50 or so followers and 100-plus random viewers).

Well, just like with my Yes Experiment I have found a loophole. So for all you regular followers I am no longer going to blog about Kenna, Max, and Shea. You will now have to hear about the trials and tribulations of raising Thing 1, Thing 2, and Thing 3 by parents The Grinch, and Cindy Lou Who. I thought about changing Murphy to Max, but I figured that would just be too confusing and he doesn’t seem to be bothered by this whole blogging thing. So enjoy!

Thing 2 refused to mug for the photo so Thing 3 stole his shirt just to confuse you all!

Yesterday, Danielle wrote about being surprised by the fact that I thoroughly enjoy reading her posts, because “Kelly Cindy Lou seems like a genuinely nice person, loving mother and overall positive human being … and all I do is swear and bitch about my kids.” Well CandGsmom this post is for you then, because as anyone who knows me (or who has kids for that matter) knows that every mother at one time or another has plenty to say (and bitch about) when it comes to their kids. The only difference between Danielle and I is that I have had 13 years to accept the fact that some things will never change, and she has had 3.

So let’s start off with this whole Mother’s Day thing! I kind of have a problem with setting aside one day a year dedicated solely to honoring mothers. No actually, I don’t “kind of” have a problem with that, I have a major freaking problem with that. ONE DAY! Seriously? We carry our children for nine or more months in our tiny uteruses, sometimes in excess of two, three, and (God forbid) four or more at a time. We pee ourselves, we waddle around, we watch our asses grow, we don’t sleep for months, some of us get this lovely dark hue to our faces referred to as “the pregnancy mask” as if it’s something to be worn with a certain amount of pride although it makes you look all sort of lopsided and multi-toned, our stomachs stretch beyond repair, and then we labor for hours, (sometimes days ), push or sometimes cut out this football-sized human being from our womb and ALL YOU’RE GIVING US IS A DAY? The same 24-hour allotted to fathers a month later.

Don’t get me wrong, I definitely believe fathers deserve their due, but mothers deserve it tenfold, even if the only thing they did was give birth to that baby and did nothing  else for the next 18 to 40-plus years. And even if these moms didn’t give birth to these children, they still have clocked several hundreds of hours of sleepless nights, diaper changes, boo-boo kissing, feedings, nursing, laundry doing, meal cooking, homework checking, baseball throwing, refereeing, “therapizing,” carpooling, crying, laughing, raging, bitching, etc. etc. etc. and all the Hallmark people could come up with was a DAY!

Well I’m declaring everyday mothers day, and my kids and husband are going to celebrate me daily whether they like it or not, starting by doing all the chores I detest TODAY! Is that laundry all washed, dried, folded, and PUT AWAY yet? Well, hop to it! The bathrooms are getting a little questionable looking …. so here’s some gloves, a sponge, and Clorox bathroom cleaner. Enjoy! I believe the Clutter Police are on vacation today, so pick up your crap and get it out of my sight! I enjoy making dinners, but today and at least one day of the week for the rest of say, ETERNITY, I would like you all to plan, cook, and clean up after one a week (and make sure the plate includes more than just a hunk of meat in the middle of it). …

Hold on a minute, Shea (OOPS) Thing 3, just interrupted my rant to give me my Mother’s Day card.

Thanks, I think! Then he sang a brief rendition of Christina Aguilera’s “Beautiful” to me … “Cause you are beautiful/No matter what they say/Words can’t bring you down/You are beautiful in every single way/So don’t you bring me down today.”

OK, that was sweet! I could get use to that on a regular basis, too. I could also deal with a lot more of this morning’s coffee in a new mug that read “Follow Your Heart” (my husband The Grinch actually listened when I said I wanted a few of the mugs in Starbuck’s “the universe knows” collection) and his offer to cook dinner tonight (even asking what I would like on the menu this evening).

I could however do without the 13-year-old attitudes, the 10-year-old “forgetfulness” and antagonizing, the 44-year-old snipping at me and “poor me, I can’t do anything right” whining, and the constant bickering, inability to pick up around the house, and me having to be the bad guy all the time!

But then again, if all that didn’t exist, then I wouldn’t have much of a case for implementing a Multiple Mothers’ Days policy in my house and around the world now, would I?

So to all you mothers out there Happy Freaking Mother’s Day! But if you, like me, believe that every day should be Mother’s Day, then sign the pledge below (actually just post in the comment section of this post, and I’ll get the messages out to Hallmark, the White House, and anyone else that could help our cause). Danielle do you want to be the lawyer to take this case?

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