1) Your child wakes up screaming about something her sister did to her last night.
Correct Response: This isn’t a very good way to wake up, is it? But I can’t understand you when you cry like that. Can you use your words and tell me what is wrong?
Inside your Head: Why the hell did I ever have kids? This is how I’m starting the day? Are you serious? I can’t have ten minutes in the morning before you start your 12-hour long assault on my ears? You’re being ridiculous, anyway. You don’t even remember what the heck happened yesterday. Get over yourself.
2) Your child hits your other child.
Correct Response: We don’t hit, okay? Hitting hurts the other person and it doesn’t get you any closer to what you want. Use words. I know you’re frustrated, and I will talk to her, but you can’t hit your sister, okay?
Inside your Head: No, you know what? Go for it. Kill each other for all I care. Beat the shit out of each other. Y’all deserve it. I’m so sick of this shit.
3) Your husband comes downstairs. “Are you having trouble keeping up with my laundry or something?”
Correct Response: I’m in the middle of laundry right now, actually. Is there something I can find for you? I bet it’s clean. I’ll try to keep up better, but I tend to like to wait until I have enough for each type of load to fill the machine so we don’t waste water.
Inside your Head: You have a million other shirts and pants and a half-dozen pairs of clean underwear. I know because I cleaned your closet yesterday. You know what else I did? I did three loads of laundry, three loads of dishes, cleaned the porch, replaced the coffee maker, vacuumed, tidied the kitchen and the living room, wrote three different pieces, swept the porch and kept the children entertained and from killing each other. What else do you want? Also, FFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUU.
4) The young cashier at the grocery store smiles at your children. “Oh, they’re so cute! You’re so lucky!”
Correct Response: Thank you! They’re really good kids!
Inside your Head: Actually, they’re only still with me because even the damn circus wouldn’t take them. They cry and tantrum all the time. They’re spoiled to shit and they’re in the middle of a ‘talking back’ phase which I just want to slap out of them, but I can’t because, hello, child abuse. So I struggle by. Are you looking for a pair of slightly used four year olds? Because they’re yours, seriously. I’ll drop their clothes off tomorrow. Also, don’t ever have kids. Save yourself. Seriously. Never ever have children.