Bossy Booty

I tell my kids to do things all the time… All day, every day, the poor dears. Sometimes I explain the reasons for my constant bossing, sometimes I don’t, but I started thinking about the “real” reasons behind some of my decrees, and I wondered… What if I was completely honest with my kids about the reasons I make them do things?

“Scrub your face, you have goo all over it.”

Your mother cannot STAND when children have dirty faces. CANNOT. STAND. IT. She judges those with dirty faced children VERY harshly, and by God, she will NOT be one of those women that allows her child to be out in public with an icky dirty face. Seriously, it takes a second to wipe your kid’s face off… Would you walk around with pudding on your face? No! So wipe your kid’s face for the love of all things!

“Stop fussing with the dog!”

I have the two sweetest (and gassiest, but that’s neither here nor there) dogs in the entire world. They are perfect dogs for children, not an aggressive bone in their little bodies. Yet when my daughters are like, fussing with them, the dogs are playing, jumping around, claws flying, I get the fear… I blame the fact that Sunny was bitten in the face by a dog when she was two. My dogs would never, ever harm my children, and I know that… Yet when the kids roll around with them, wrestle with them, and all the other crazy crap they do to my poor sweet dogs, the headline “Child Gets Entire Head Bitten Off by 13 Year Old Dog That Was Supposedly the Nicest Dog in the World with Not an Aggressive Bone In Its Body” runs through my head. Plus it is SUPER annoying. Kids screaming dogs grumbling, claws scratching the floor… Just no.

“Put your seatbelt on!”

This is a rule that is enforced regardless of how close to home we are… I don’t care if we are driving two blocks (Do I sometimes drive my children to school even though it’s only two blocks away? Uh, maybe… But like, only when I don’t want to put a bra on or it’s really cold outside… Or like, if I’m super tired or something…), those seatbelts are going on. The reasons for this are threefold… Number one, most accidents happen within like, two miles of home or something, and since we don’t leave the two miles from home radius all that often, we are in constant peril. Nothing bad can happen to my babies, just can’t. Number two, if you let them get away with something once, they will try to get away with it again… And again… And again… And they will pester you and pester you and pester you until you have to get grouchy with them. And that sucks. Best to just be a complete bitch about it and make them do something every time so that they don’t realize it’s a thing they can not do. Number three, I am not getting a ticket for having unbuckled children flying around in my car… I CAN’T GO BACK TO PRISON*!!!!!

*I’ve never actually been to prison.

 “Wash your hands!”

Wash your hands because we’re in a public bathroom… If people watch you walk out of here without washing your hands, they’ll think I’m some kind of maniac. A crazed lunatic that allows her children to wander around in this world with stinky, germy hands, spreading diseases and filth everywhere they go.


I want my children to be nice to each other. More than anything. I hate it when they’re mean, it breaks my heart. I just want them to be best friends! I want them to take care of each other! But mostly, and I say this from the bottom of my heart, it annoys the ever loving sh*t out of me.

“Wipe your nose!”

Seriously, if I look at your face and there is snot on it, I will barf. Okay, I may not full on barf, but I will be gagging, perilously close to barfing, and have to cover my eyes or look down at the ground until the snot is gone.

“Be a nice cheetah.”

This is just for my youngest. She dresses up in a cheetah costume about 75% of the time and she takes it very seriously. What this means is that she is quite aggressive, she meows in an extremely loud and unpleasant way, and she scratches. Like, for real. And when I complain about it, she says “I’m not Daisy, I’m a cheetah, and cheetahs scratch.”

“Be careful!!!”

My poor kids. All day, every day, everything they do… Because nothing bad can happen to my babies. Just can’t! Plus, when I say that they’re usually on the verge of making a gigantic mess that I will have to clean up. As a side note, Daisy once grabbed my glasses, put them on, and said “Look, I’m Mommy! “Be careful, be careful!”

 And that, my friends, is just a small sample of the constant stream of bossy commands my children hear on a daily basis. I’m sure they would say there are many, many more!

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