BeautyHack columnist, writer, mom of three and simply incredible Anna Miller discusses how difficult it is to make life difficult for all family members.
Journalist, children's writer
- I am a mother. I spoil everything forever. I make them wash their feet and comb their hair. I cut my nails and, even worse, clean my ears.
I'm so pesky. All the time I need something from people - either pick up a T-shirt from the floor, then hang a shirt on a hanger, or remove backpacks from the aisle.
And why don't I rest and leave others alone? No-no! I always need to find something for everyone - hang my linen, my dishes, and if not mine, then put the plate away after you. Well, there is a plate on the table, to the delight of the flies, let it stand! But no-no! The plate, you see, has a place!
I am a mom, I have supersensitive eyesight and smell. I see and smell things that others do not see and do not smell: a dirty floor, dirty dishes, trash on the floor, dust on the table, hairy monsters in the bath drain, socks under the bed, a rotten sandwich in my portfolio pocket.
I'm a mom, I'm always spoiling everything. Humanly speaking, I can't even lie, I always find out the truth from somewhere, I find candy wrappers from forbidden sweets and a deuce in chemistry, and I know what my grandmother actually said …
I'm a mom, I have my own boring song. The chorus is: "Remove the phone, read a book, pum-pum-purubum."
I am a mother, sometimes I threaten and become like an angry bear. In these moments, I especially do not like.
I am a mother. I always sit down next to me and begin to explain something tediously. I, like an X-ray, see right through and know where the harmfulness grows from, why you are silent all day, what your friend is offended, why you so want to quit music or skip workout.
I'm a mom, I have answers to everything, and this is terribly infuriating.
I am a mom, I am lazy, mischievous and greedy.
I know how to bake thin sweet pancakes, but for some reason I do it not every day, and I have to chew broccoli.
I can wash the floor myself, but out of harm I force others.
And I have money, but I will never give it to slimes and notebooks.
I'm very annoying. Once I will say: “Take out the tree”, “Remove the cup”, “Wash your hands” - I see that there is no time for people. I would lag behind! So no, I repeat. Once again.
I am a mother, I sprinkle bitter muck down my throat and have already got everyone with my hat!
I am a mother, I absolutely do not understand anything about gifts. Normal people ask for creams and lipsticks, but give me drawings and pads for needles made by hand!
I'm a mom, I'm afraid all the time. That they are hungry, that they are cold, that they have forgotten that they are lost, that they have a cold, that they had a fight, that they will not learn, that they will not cope …
It's fun without me. You can eat sausages straight from the pack, drown dumplings in a lake of mayonnaise, or you can pick from a Teflon frying pan with an iron spoon. When I'm not there, you can walk on the carpet in dirty boots, blow your nose in the curtains and leave the light everywhere. Without me, you can watch a movie for hours and not take off your school uniform. Without me, you can yell at each other with harsh words and make daddy buy poisonous candies.
I am a mother, I am like a border guard who always guards the coast. I make life boring and right, and who would know HOW I'm sick of it!
Would like to wave to Mexico, drink wine from dusk till dawn, not worry about anything, retire from school chats, climb onto the couch in boots, not wash dishes and cook healthy vegetable soup, shout something bold and obscene, paint lips as it is indecent to go to school, eat spicy, fatty, sweet and harmful, wear a colorful dress … and walk without a hat!
But I'm a mom. I'm going to grumble, brush crumbs off the table, and check my diary.