Please pass the potatoes!

Today’s Mom Tears™ are brought to you by “Saying grace” “Fist fights at the kitchen table” and “Holy hell I’ve found a new chin hair”

I am reflecting on the events that unfolded yesterday evening. I have found a wee bit of comfort in the two Pogos and two chunky Kit Kat bars that I hovered in whilst deep in thought. Sometimes I cannot believe this is my life!  The two chocolate bars yes.  The rest not so much.

The evening started out well enough.  You know the usual stuff. Work, dinner prep, pre-meal complaints about the menu, noise …. you get the gist.  Any hoo it was finally time for dinner and the gang gathered round the table.  We gave thanks. Well; most of us gave thanks one little lady thought dinner was gross.  She has obviously not been exposed to wieners and beans…. Now that is gross!!  We do this thing where we take turns telling what the best part of the day has been. Sometimes the answers are short sometimes quite long but it is something I look forward too and I think the kiddos do as well. It was going quite smoothly.  The usual shenanigan king was quiet so me repeating “enough” was eliminated. We could have almost been a greeting card photo……. UNTIL A tee shirt worn by one kid was noticed by another.  The tee shirt in question was in a laundry basket full of clothes given to the wearer.  The giver of this in-house hand me down transaction swore on all that was good that it was his.  He wanted it back. That second.  The wearer was well, wearing it and not planning on giving it back at all. EVER.  The next few minutes were an absolute blur.  While the little princess used her fork as a dinner plate bulldozer and her lip protruded further than one could imagine; a couple quick jabs then chairs were sliding and the air turned blue.  I have no clue where my angelic young men learned such bad words??  (UMMMM I plead the fifth) the baby kept eating, I yelled ENOUGH!!!  And, STOP IT!!!  About forty thousand times.  I believe the first ten thousand could not be heard through the grunting and sounds of my sons thumping each other.  We did a quick seating arrangement adjustment. A few more accusations and threats were tossed. Plans made to wear this epic tee shirt the next morning (insert eye roll, as the shirt is nothing special.) dinner was completed in silence.

A quick tidy up of the kitchen, the usual complaints about who should shower first and why showering is important. A few hundred glasses of water, trips to the washroom and the house fell silent. AT LAST.

That’s when my night really took a turn for the worse.

You see the lighting in the washroom is okish but for some reason on this particular night it became a beacon of disappointment shining directly on my chin. There it was.  A new hair.  Like the ravages of child birth and the pull of gravity have not destroyed my body enough?!? A beard seems the next logical progression???  I get it is a part of aging but no one …. NO ONE…. Told me that they would sprout at free will all over the place!!!  To compound matters I swear the wee bastard was grey.

I did what any grown woman would do.  I examined my face with great intensity.  Plucked, tweezed and pleaded with the old reflection staring back at me to knock it off! Then applied copious amounts of wrinkle cream and stomped off to bed.

 

Note: The kids are once again friends.  Kindness has prevailed.  The Tee shirt is MIA.  I am still in shock about my chin hairs NOT hair and I think the wrinkle cream is working? I feel like its working?  All said and done; I’ve managed to eat my chocolates in peace with just enough time to hide the evidence and start yet another evening in the glittery trenches.

Note: If you think your boys have not nor will ever come to blows…. Let me be the first to tell you that you are exempt from chin hair(s) after 40.

❤ Leigh
© 2018

4 comments

  1. I sympathize about the chin hairs. I’m a hair mofo and if I don’t pluck or shave all the things except the hair on my head and my eyebrows (they never did recover after the Great Shave of 92, poor things), within a month I begin to resemble a gorilla.

    Like

  2. At the very least you can still see your chin hair or hag hair as i call them. Wait till your fifties when you must buy the dreaded magnifier mirror that lights up.

    Liked by 1 person

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