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A Memo to My Kids: This is How I Really Feel

I lovey love love my kids. More than cute shoes on sale, Retinol and strong Lemon Drop martinis; I love my kids.

I will fight for them, protect them, and honor them all the days of my life, but there are days (like today) that they make me just plain stabby.

As I sit down to drink wine at 4:43 p.m. on a particularly frustrating day, I am inspired to write only one thing – a memo (or actually a slideshow) of how I really feel at the moment.

Please check out my grievances after the jump!

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  • You’re right, it’s NOT fair 1 of 12
    You're right, it's NOT fair
    Guess what my little Libra who's keeping score, life's not fair for a whole bunch of unfair reasons. The sooner we accept this unfair truth, the better off we'll all be.
    Photo credit: Shutterstock
  • The hamper is not a place for clothes you don’t feel like putting away 2 of 12
    The hamper is not a place for clothes you don't feel like putting away
    I see the appeal of this hamper. It's handy, it already has clothes in it, so why not toss in that clean shirt you tried on and decided not to wear? I'll tell you why not, because it's clean!
    Photo credit: Shutterstock
  • Little dudes, I beg of you 3 of 12
    Little dudes, I beg of you
    You know what's worse than a broken tailbone? A mom with a broken tailbone who blames you.
    Photo credit: Shutterstock
  • My name is not Mom 4 of 12
    My name is not Mom
    OK, it is but that doesn't mean I need to hear it 64 times in a row. I heard you the first time...and the 63 times after. If I haven't answered you it's because I'm checking my Twitter. #chillax
    Photo credit: Shutterstock
  • I am not a human trash can 5 of 12
    I am not a human trash can
    Why you insist on handing me your empty candy wrappers, sticker backings and snotty tissues is beyond me. Find a trash can, eat the trash, I don't really care; stop giving it to me!
    Photo credit: Shutterstock
  • You’ll probably survive without that band-aid 6 of 12
    You'll probably survive without that band-aid
    I'm no doctor but I feel fairly confident in your ability to lead a long and productive life in spite of that superficial scrape on the first layer of your epidermis.
    Photo credit: Shutterstock
  • Blame law enforcement 7 of 12
    Blame law enforcement
    It's not my fault you now have to be 7 feet tall and/or 19 years old and 200 lbs. before you're allowed out of this booster contraption. If I'm going to jail it's going to be for a reason a helluva lot more fun than letting you out of your booster too early.
    Photo credit: Shutterstock
  • There actually IS something to eat 8 of 12
    There actually IS something to eat
    Please stop telling me there's nothing to eat and at least qualify your statement with, "There's nothing filled with preservatives, high sodium and trans-fats to eat!" At least then you'd be speaking the truth.
    Photo credit: Shutterstock
  • Your jackets are not disposable 9 of 12
    Your jackets are not disposable
    I understand why you might be confused. You lose jackets every single week that somehow wind up in the vortex of the fourth dimension. I wonder how many more jackets we'll need to buy when we start using your allowance to purchase them?
    Photo credit: Shutterstock
  • I am not a detective 10 of 12
    I am not a detective
    Please allow me to focus on not losing things like my children, my car keys and my iPhone. I promise I will never know where you put your little Lego guy so please, stop asking.
    Photo credit: Shutterstock
  • I have a vagina. I need toilet paper. 11 of 12
    I have a vagina. I need toilet paper.
    I can't just give my bajango a good shake and go on down life's highway. Please stop leaving me a cardboard roll; my lady bits are begging you.
    Photo credit: Shutterstock
  • Love me — just leave me alone 12 of 12
    Love me — just leave me alone
    Sometimes I need a minute, just an itty bitty minute to pee or pluck that recurring chin hair. I know it's hard to be without me but if you could just offer me a moment of solace to catch my breath and take off my bra, I think you'll find I'm a better mom for it.
    Photo credit: Shutterstock

Parenting is the only job that leaves us tearing out our hair and loving (almost) every moment. If this job were a 9-5er I would have quit it a long time ago! At the end of the day, it’s my fellow mother who keeps me going. She “gets” it as only a mother can, but as my dear friend Devan pointed out in her Motherhood Confession today, even moms have the ability to irritate at times! OK, where’s the wine? I need me a refill.

On your toughest parenting day, what would you like to tell your kids?

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