Dirty Secret Saturday is back. Join me, Lena from Mom 2 Memphis and Ruby, and Chrissy from A Little Dash of Diva as we get down and dirty... With secrets or confessions, or just something you'd like to admit. Write it, add a button, link it, live it.
I must confess:
I hate cleaning. Of any kind. Right now you can't see my living room floor. And if you came over, I wouldn't let you use my bathroom.
I never make my bed. Never. If the bed's made, the hubbs did it and it's because there are people coming over. I feel like if I go over to make the bed, I might just crawl back in it.
I hate to vacuum. So much so, that when Caitlin saw them at Target once, she said, "Daddy likes those". She's right. Daddy does the vacuuming 99.9% of the time. Ok 100%.
I hate making 3 different dinners. One for me, one for John, and one for the kids. Or on special, let's throw a fit over our veggies nights, 4 different dinners. I know, I said I was never going to be a short order cook. But let's be serious. If I didn't cook what my kids wanted to eat, they would eat chips and fruit snacks for dinner. And that meal is reserved for special occasions, like Tuesdays.
I have no desire to enroll my child in French, Spanish, Super Science Team, or Fancy Ballet classes. Why? Because that would mean I would have to attend those things too, and Moi has better things to do. Like read The Hunger Games again, or watch Cougar Town on DVR.
I hate the makers of Littlest Pet Shop, Squinkies, and any other miniature toy that my 4 year old loves, and my 2 year old loves to eat. Seriously how many miniature bears, dogs, and kitties do we need? I guess a million, because yesterday Squinkies were the "prize" in a Happy Meal. If you don't know what these items are, God bless you and keep you safe.
I hate that I cannot for the life of me bring myself to completely do the laundry. I can get it to the washer and then the drier and then it gets fuzzy. I have piles, no, mountains of clean clothes just waiting for a hanger. And they will keep waiting there until they get worn.
I hate that I really want to start exercising, but still find reasons and excuses. I feel like it will just set me up for disaster. The last thing I need are toned arms and legs, possible a more contoured waist line. Why? Because in 6 months when my appetite for exercise has been quenched with sugar and chocolate, I'm going to feel like a real failure. Why even set myself up for that?
I dislike any claims by any parents that their kid is a genius, unless of course their kid is Doogie Howser. No really, let's stop for a moment and talk about this. You know you have one friend who is dead serious that their kid is going to be the next Steve Jobs. Their kid was walking at 6 months, while yours was drooling. Whatever. I have more important things to worry about, like if Khloe and Lamar are really breaking up, or if Kim is ok after the flour bomb incident. Seriously if your kid is such a genius, then why is he still craping his pants?
I must confess, I could be here all day. Really I could, but I would eventually bore you with my secret confession, which now aren't really a secret. Oh, well. I'd rather be an open book, than a closed one on the shelf.
What do you hate? Genius babies? Miniature toys that you always step on? Making the bed? Don't be shy, link up and make some friends! It's your day to tell us what's on your mind!