I might not adult like a boss. Or parent like a boss. Or even sleep like a boss. But dammit, I can talk a good game. Here we go.

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Because some Saturdays I kick it like a boss.

Pancakes, bacon, and turkey sausage with cut up fruit for breakfast. Turkey burgers with corn on the cob for dinner. What does my delightful kid ask? “What’s up with the cooking today, mom?”

Oh, I don’t know, kiddo. Just got a hair out of place, I suppose. Tomorrow we’ll go back to frozen waffles.

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Because sometimes the answer is get the hell out of my face.

Child #1 has friends over all day. We make them lunch, we keep them warm, then he decides to give me shit when I don’t drop dinner and tackle the dog so she won’t eat the cookies he left on the floor. Child, get out of my sight.

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Because apparently pastry isn’t always pastry.

We whipped up some Italian pancakes for a bunch of kids – easy peasy yummy deliciousness, that’s a win in my book. Right up to the super confusing moment when one kid announced he doesn’t do eggs. Wait, what? It’s a pastry. You sprinkle powdered sugar and lemon crystals on it. Yes, it’s got eggs, it’s got flour and eggs, that’s the base of every pastry out there. Are you telling me you don’t eat pancakes? Or waffles? Or doughnuts either? So.very.confused.

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Because tough love usually means getting real.

“Dude. You go out into the world thinking it’s all about you, you’re selfish. You go out not helping others, you’re lazy. Either way people will think you’re an a-hole and that’s on you.”

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Because we don’t negotiate with terrorists.

The deal has been the same for years: we go someplace fun, we have a great time, we leave with a minimum of fuss when we need to, and we get to go again. This was standing policy for the park, the children’s museum, the mall, the Chic-Fil-A playplace…anywhere the kids liked to go, these were the rules. Period.

So I have to say it makes me a little crazy to hear people repeatedly warning their littles, “If you don’t stop beating your sister we’re gonna have to leave.” FOR REAL, folks, YOU’VE GOT TO LEAVE IF THEY DON’T STOP. We don’t negotiate with terrorists. Even ones with adorable dimples.

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