A Mom’s gotta do what a Mom’s gotta do

A mom’s gotta do what a mom’s do….

Tonight that included:
“Mom-did you remember that I had to be a pig tomorrow for relay for life?” The 15 minute fight that ensued as 2 stubborn, have to be right girls went toe-to-toe at the dinner table. It was actually a 3 minute fight but with both of us NEEDING to get the last word and her last words being, “I did tell you–I know I did. I (emphasis on eye-eh) am not lying,” well-you can imagine that they made things draw out a bit. We’ll save those details for another blog. It’s own separate blog.

A mom’s gotta do what a mom’s gotta do.

That includes swallowing my pride and biting my tongue and helping create a pig costume. She, in an attempt to apologize without actually saying the words “I am sorry” or “I was wrong” cleaned the kitchen. Without being asked. I saw the effort and relented. Gathering pig duct tape (yes, I had pink duct tape on hand) I went to work. I crafted a pig nose to which Phil raised an eyebrow. One word and this will be YOUR project-I warned. That’s paraphrased but I am sure you get the idea. A few more twist and turns and VIOLA-pig ears area attached to a headband. Thanks to a silver pipe cleaner and more of the pink duct tape and a pig’s tail is born. As we are trying those on I get asked the question, “Uh…so…is it bad to actually spray a pie with Febreeze?” Sigh. My freshly baked cherry pie sits cooling on the stove. The air suddenly is leaden with the smell of cinnamon rolls. The scent is so cloying that I am not fooled by the description of a ‘little’ febreeze. There will be no pie tonight.

A mom’s gotta do what a mom’s gotta do.

In my heels and still in my HOSE and dress I trudged upstairs to help pick out the pig outfit. I don’t hit the door of her room before I hear, “DON’T GO IN THERE!” Too late. I’ve opened the door….and….a mom’s gotta do what a mom’s gotta do….I bit my tongue HARD and thru clenched teeth told her she was on her own. At that moment what this mom had to do was to GET OUT OF THERE. I am sure there will be lots more to that story as THAT room in THAT condition will NOT last the weekend. Next time this mom’s gonna do what this mom’s gonna do and it’s going to be drastic. DR-AS-TIC as in if it’s on the floor, it’s off to Goodwill. This child is going to be left with a bed.

A mom’s gotta do what a mom’s gotta do.

As I trudged back down the stairs in dismay by phone blurts signaling a text. Seems an invitation for a play date extended to my son for tomorrow has been revoked. hahaha….seems as I am not the only mom doing what she’s gotta do. This mom checked her sons grades online and quickly realized that what she had to do was get her sons attention. To his extreme embarrassment he had to un-invite Colton and tell him why. She later texted me to apologize. Not-necessary, I replied.

A mom’s gotta do what a Mom’s gotta do.


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