{C}all me up if you're a {G}angsta'

I go to bed every night just hoping and praying I have not screwed up my children. That they won’t remember me walking around in my underwear, black circles under my eyes from lack of sleep (thank you Bubba-Loo!), you don’t want to even know about the hair and the sexy retainers I sleep in. Oh! and the occasional ‘toot’ that just happens to slip out every once and a while. (Don’t worry, they don’t smell or anything…that would be gross.)

What can I say? Nobody’s perfect. (Except Mr. Darcy. I love you. Call me.)

But I so badly want to be the ‘bomb’ in my children’s eyes.

I keep hoping they will black it out. Ya know. Like when something really traumatizing happens to someone. They black it out. Right? Right?????

This is what I secretly wish from my children. That they only remember the good stuff.

Like when I took Mia to see the JUSTIN BIEBER movie and screamed ‘I love you Justin!!’ at the screen (Yeah, I’m the COOL mom). Or when I blow kisses to Max as I drop him off at school (he doesn’t do it back, but I know he LOVES it). And Vanner. Well, let’s just hope that he doesn’t remember all the horrible things I say about other drivers on the road. I mean, he’s only two right? He can’t even understand what I’m saying…or can he? Hmmm…

Please, oh PLEASE! Let me not scar my children for life.

I think by buying them a puppy all will be forgiven.

Yes. I am awesome.

{B}ubba-Loooooooooooooooo