I never knew how much personal space meant to me…it’s something that I can say….I took for granted.
I mean, I’m three years in this and I’m still in awe at the lack of personal space I have.
I miss it. Terribly.
Just made the kid his breakfast request for this morning-French Toast and Turkey Bacon. I mean, I set him up nicely! His tray, favorite TV show on and my cell phone for his entertainment. I wanted to make sure that while he eats, I could take a couple of moments for myself to just, hell, get it together! I scrambled some eggs, blended up my green smoothie and settled myself into the couch. I even reached for the remote and decided to take in a quick netflix show. WHO. THE. FUCK. DID. I. THINK. I. WAS??
*cue the pitter patter of feet*
Him: “Mama, what are you doing? What are you eating? Are you going to watch a show?”
Me: “I’m going to eat my breakfast and watch something on TV, go in your room like a big boy and finish your breakfast so you can be big and strong like daddy”
Him: “OK!” *pitter patters back into his room”
*cue more pitter patter*
Him with tray in hand: “I’m going to sit here with you.”
I didn’t want to engage in any more conversation b/c ya know you learn to pick your battles with these little terrorizers. So FINE! Sit in the damn living room with me. He placed his tray on the floor, and ate his food and all was well until he finished…….
AND HE DECIDES TO SIT RIGHT NEXT TO ME WITH HIS BIG ASS HEAD ON MY SHOULDER AS IM TRYING TO EAT. Even had the nerve to move my smoothie to make room for his shit on the couch in my space. You have to be shitting me.
Me: “Hey baby can you ummm scoot over a little bit so mommy can finish eating”
Me: “Because mommy needs to eat and I just need a little space.”
Him: “OK mama, I will move over”
Me: “Perfect-THANK YOU, you’re such a good boy”
Him: “Are you done yet?” as he sits all the way in my lap and tells me to move my bowl.
FUCK BREAKFAST EH? FUCK NETFLIX. Again-WHO. THE. FUCK. DID. I. THINK. I. WAS?
So yeah, this all happened within a 30 minute time frame, but I didn’t finish my eggs because they were cold, and I don’t like to reheat. And well, my kid doesn’t get it. And while I really wish I had personal space, and would love some moments without him climbing, jumping and sitting on me, I realize the years are going to fly by and its going to be a time where he’s going to be too busy jacking off in the bathroom to some broad with big titties in a magazine using all my damn lotion to even want to hug me. So fuck it-here we are.
Yes, I’m That Mom.