#me and Andy fighting for our lives over here bc knowing what we can eat doesn’t make it easier to manage that to eat well

[werewolfpdfs]

school trying to kill me on this meal plan hello

[tempestshakes01]

happy and anxious. 

happy because i love my apartment and i love Lil Cup of Joe. he is a terror and the sweetest boy ever, and i feel so much love for him. this is why i can’t be around an animal for an extended period of time. i will die for any creature i get attached to and lil joe is now my baby. 

but i am anxious because i put of working when my brother brought home a puppy. he didn’t ask me to, but he’s an idiot who’s never home and bought a puppy to make him come home. i gave him 3 days and when his habits didn’t change, joe was being left alone and untrained, and i needed a running buddy--well, i took over. joe’s now potty-trained and knows a few (one) command. i take him everywhere to socialize him. he’s mine. but i’ll never say that to nick. who still needs to go therapy. i don’t know him. i don’t know what goes on in that head of his. it’s like we switched personalities in our 20s. i went from the quiet, serious type to basically a manic 13 yr old boy. he went from a wildly charismatic clown to a brooding hipster. what makes him laugh? what is he thinking? what is he passionate about? how does he talk to other ppl for hours but he can barely speak to his family for more than half of one? what did we do?

i got really angry the other night thinking about the fights i’ve had with my parents this past year. 

1) washington d.c. - mom and i got into to it in front of the fuckin white house at dusk. i was so emotional and upset at being there, right there where trump fucks over our country, and my mom was being...well, the woman fox news molded. i was furious and trying to keep it nice, so i asked if we could just stop. stop talking. i was gonna blow up. and my mom was like, “why do we stop when you say stop, but when i ask to stop, you continue?” which...is it true? i didn’t think so, and because i can’t keep my mouth shut, i argued until i walked away. i walked into the crowds and then i kept walking. i kept walking. i kept walking.  

it was terrible. i texted her “i’m gone” and i left. 

i forgot the details but i wandered that area of d.c. got a coffee. tried not to cry. and then...remembered how much trouble my mom’s phone was giving her, that her gps apps weren’t being accurate, that she wasn’t confident at the metro, and that it was now dark. that she was alone in an unfamiliar city with a camera bag strapped to her screaming “i’m a tourist!” 

i felt like utter and complete shit. it was one of the most despicable things i’ve ever done. later, i told some people and they were like “she’s a grown woman! you were both upset!” but no. i can’t make excuses like that. i knew that my mom was scared. i burst into tears. a crazy sobbing girl in the middle of d.c. i immediately texted her and told her to get back to me when she got to the hotel. 

an hour later, back at the hotel, my mom couldn’t even look at me. couldn’t speak to me. i knew i had to apologize and i did, wording it carefully because i walking on a minefield. i again blocked out most of the conversation, but it quickly dissolved into a mess of confessions. i was wrecked. at first because of what happened, but as our conversation turned into an argument, i became furious again. over how she interpreted some of our interactions. over how i “blamed” her for my anxiety and anger. i told her i got my anger from her. that i was slow to it like my father, but when something lit inside me it burned bright and hot and deadly like her. that her grudges and cold shoulders hurt me so, so badly when i was a kid (which she then explained wasn’t a grudge, just her processing her anger...but that was way, way into the night). oh god, it was so bad. so bad. she confessed how she felt about all us kids. told me about her problems with andi and nick. told me she wanted to move away from us. told me she didn’t want a relationship with me or them if it was going to be like this. 

i didn’t sleep. just cried and cried. like i did when i was a kid. sobbed in the bathroom and then under my covers. we barely talked the next day, but it slowly became okay. i didn’t know how to explain how much i loved her, so i tried to show her.      

in the end, we were ok enough. 

2) driving 30 hrs across the country - my dad and i were talking and he told me how he didn’t get us, and that we were hurting mom by rejecting her or something. he was upset and my dad doesn’t get upset, so i got upset and moody. and he was like “why are you like this? just with me? just with us. you’re so cruel.” and i knew it was true but it still took me an hour to snap out of it. and i apologized. 

--

but i feel sometimes angry bc i got the emo dump from both my parents. about both my siblings! and they don’t even talk to them about it! my parents don’t even touch nick anymore! they leave him alone because it’s easier that way and he wouldn’t listen even if they tried to talk to him! and my sister would get super huffy and feel judged and act out in some way and take the kids! so. i get it but i hate it!!! because i got the feelings dump! i got the tears and the hours of psychoanalyzing why we are the way we are! and i hate that i feel burdened by it sometimes?

 i want to be there for my parents but sometimes i’m that petulant child that still wants a mommy and daddy, not two parents who are human and exist with their own emotional life. and that’s so unfair to them and wrong of me, but i feel that way because i’m the child that gets this brunt of this side of them.  

but it’s because in my own way im the most difficult and this shit spills out when i push them. 

--

my parents (mostly mom) are only getting more set in their ways and defensive of their opinions. my mom...my mom who taught me so much about art and the world and appreciating different cultures and music and lived life with such vigor and wonder...i can see that fading and hardening. she’s stubborn about what she like and doesn’t have much interest in anything new. she’s offended and hurt when i gently bring up her how she used to be. 

my dad’s always been this way. very traditional, but kind. spoiled, but hardworking. likes what he likes. but he’s eating more greens. he’ll try what i make because i made it. we listened to latino usa and old radio lab podcasts that whole drive from wa to tx, and he loved it, and we discussed the episodes. and i loved him so much because he gave them a shot and we connected. 

but my mom. my mom. i miss her and she’s right there, but she’s not. and i know i’m part of the reason she’s retreated into herself and her more ‘sturdy’ beliefs and the friends who share them. she’s so quick to judge and harsh about it these days. is it age? is it us? is it this horrible world?

--

i came home to this. i came home and how quickly people change bc i didn’t expect my mom to be so old. in spirit. she’s tired. she doesn’t trust me. we’re working on being gentle. i’m working on not being so quick to anger.

my dad and i...i’m thrilled we’re getting along so well after i treated him like shit during the ~separation years~ between my parents. i was awful to him and he knew why, but he never called me out on it. 

my sis and i are fine. i’m so relieved she got out of that last relationship with that TERRIBLE PERSON and came to her senses, and somewhat grew up. we kick it. she cooks for me. we don’t completely jive cause she’s hood, but can code-switch between worlds, and i’m suburban through and through, so i’m not as cool or smooth as she is. i’m her dorky weird little sister and i appreciate her love for me. 

my brother? a mystery. a complete mystery. 

and i’m reminded of how he called me on my birthday and started weeping and asking about therapy and saying he’s sorry he never believed in my anxiety because it’s true--you don’t ask for, you don’t know why it appears, and it wrecks you. and he deals with it now for no discernible reason and he sounded so, so broken over the phone that i was shaking and crying when we hung up.

but now he’s as chill as ever and takes minimal care of his puppy because the 1st dog he got was pretty hands-off from the jump, but she was grown and pooed and peeded everywhere for months (he says no, but that’s selective memory), so now lil joe is mine and i need to get a job because the lack of structure is killlllllllllllllingggggg me. but i don’t want to leave lil joe :( 

--

it’s funny how i never set out to write all this shit, but it comes spilling out. 

huh. wait.

i left and i worked on myself but then i missed my family.

did i come back to work on the family? to work on my relationship with them? is that my purpose here and why i felt compelled to return?

--

went climbing with GA. i was totally afraid of falling and bouldering isn’t as fun to me as top rope, but i wanna keep at it. 

trying to set something up with B and A. my buds. i love em. 

gotta set something up with L because I have a feeling we’ll be good friends here. and weirdly, BG contacted me even though I haven’t talked to him since college? and even then we weren’t that close. he was just inching toward asking me out and never managed it.

--

fav emmy looks: zendaya (obviously. omg, whatta babe), maisie williams (whatta look, suits her perfectly, killed it), gwen christie (whatta jesus babe), that girl in the billowing mint green dress, anddddd clea duvall (a babe in a tux). 

vm continue to make me sad and hopefully things go well with tour for them. it’s nice to see them getting along with charlie and tanith. with bby charlie and tati and max’s kid coming along...oh boy for scott’s emotions. he’s gonna ignore the HELL out of those sad feeling for what couldvebeen with tess and he’s gonna plan hard for his and j’s future offspring instead. (can i also predict that i think one thing scott’s gonna have trouble with in his marriage--oddly enough--is keeping the marriage a partnership and not bulldozing over his spouse with his wants and needs ...wait, that’s not odd lol) 

--

anyway, gotta take joe out to pee. gotta get to bed soon because i wanna be on the trails by 7am and then maybe to the climbing gym. this face maybe a potato but my body can improve! (i’m thicc at the moment thanks to texas food 🤧) 

[antiquecompass]

So I was HOPING to have 1 complete story and 2 complete ficlets done for @warriorgays birthday today. I don’t know why I plan on anything honestly bc whenever I do my family decides it’s time for massive Home Improvement Projects which take up my days off. I wanted to get SOMETHING up for Alex’s birthday though, so here’s a very long preview of the will-not-end superbowl fic:

A lot had changed in Babe Heffron’s life since 2004. His Philly family had lost a few members, but gained a ton between new babies, a hell of a bunch of in-laws, and groups of folks that just got adopted in along the way. In those years Bill had lost an entire leg, gained a desk job, finally convinced Fran to marry his foolish ass, and started raising three kids. Ralph was an actual <i>doctor</i> now, running one of the Thibodaux Medical Clinics just outside Baton Rouge. Maggie lived with Ralph and Sid in their own place in St. Boniface, working at the clinic there and forging her own path like usual.

 And Babe?

 Babe went from being a bartender to working an actual office job for Nixon Development. He had most weekends and holidays off and a 401k and an actual accountant to handle his taxes now. He was <i>married</i> for Christ’s sake. To a friggin’ <i>doctor</i>. In Louisiana of all places. If he could’ve gone back in time and told his teenage self he’d be settled down, far away from South Philly, with some Cajun doc he’d met during Mardi Gras, he probably would’ve punched himself. He definitely would’ve called Ron to take care of his delusional evil clone.

 And there was no way, in any of his wildest dreams, he could’ve predicted having Merl-Francis as his brother-in-law.

 He was pretty fucking proud of Shelton too. Boy had gone and become a Registered Nurse. They’d done so many study sessions in the middle of the night to past that certification test. They’d held a bake sale outside the clinic to raise the $500 fee just to take that fucking test.

 Merl-Francis got it done on the first try.

 So Babe definitely couldn’t complain about how his life had turned out since last February 2004. 2018, despite the hellscape that had become the world in general, hadn’t been too bad to him so far. He was cautiously optimistic about the year, after having gotten past the normal mourning days around Christmas. It was nearing his anniversary of meeting Gene and the Eagles were in the play-offs. So yeah, things were looking bright and shiny for Babe Heffron. Sure, he was waiting for Ralph to <i>finally<i> admit he was dating Maggie, but that was more fun to watch Spina struggle to come up with excuses for why he couldn’t hang out other than ‘I’m dating your little sister.’ It was amusing as hell.

 And then fucking New England has to fuck up the good year Babe had going for him. Honestly, he should’ve expected it from the Patriots.

 “You look like you’re fixing to punch the tv,” Eugene Sledge said as he looked up from his laptop. “Please don’t. It took Snafu three different trips to pick that one out.”

 “I had to compare the specs,” Merl-Francis said through a mouth of crab dip.

 Gene slapped him. “Close your mouth. Never could take you nowhere.”

 Merl-Francis glared at him. “We at home, Gene-Baptiste. Ain’t no one here not used to me.”

 “We still don’t want to see all that,” Gene said.

 None of the men present understood Babe’s pain. It was the fucking Patriots. Again. If only Ralph and Maggie were here, instead of being all responsible and working. They didn’t get it, this group of Saints fans. They didn’t <i>know</i>.

 “You don’t understand,” Babe said.

 Sledge shrugged and went back to working on his manuscript. “You don’t like the Patriots. A lot of people don’t. Andy’s probably the only one I know who does.”

 “No,” Babe said. “It’s a rematch of Thirty-Nine. I don’t know if I can take this shit again.” He stood up and went to the small kitchen medicine cabinet. “I need all the Tums.”

 Merl-Francis smirked at him. “You got such a weak constitution.”

 “Fuck you,” Babe said as he stepped over a sleeping Kipling.

 Babe’s phone started to ring on the coffee table. Gene reached for it and frowned as he looked at the screen.

 “What?” Babe asked as he shook a handful of Tums into his hand.

 “It’s your dad,” Gene said.

 “Well, answer it,” Babe said.

 “Good evening, Mr. Heffron,” Gene greeted as he put the phone on speaker.

 Joe Heffron sighed. “Gene, when will you just call me ‘dad’?”

 “Sorry, sir,” Gene said.

 His dad sighed again. “We’ll work on it. Where’s my boy? Eating a handful of antacids?”

 “Yes,” Gene said glancing over at Babe.

 Babe made a face at both of them. It wasn’t his fault his stomach didn’t like sports-event related stress.

 “Just like his mother,” Dad said. “Once he’s done choking down chalk, tell him to call me back. We need to know when he’s coming home.”

 “What now?” Babe asked.

 “There’s my boy. You’re coming home for the Super Bowl. You can’t celebrate it <i>there</i>.” Dad paused. “No offense, boys.”

 “None taken,” Gene said.

 “Bullshit,” Merl-Francis muttered.

 His father did have a point. There was just something about Philly fans being at home around other Philly fans. Look, he knew the reputation they had in the sports world. They were the most asshole of fans who did stupid shit like climb poles and flip over cars and throw batteries at opposing pitchers and fall into the penalty box to fight a professional hockey player and booed Santa Claus once almost fifty years ago. And sure things got so bad for a time there the Eagles Court had to be established to deal with all the shit happening at games, but that had been disbanded over fifteen years ago. Despite all that, there was nothing like being around that energy. Even with the actual game in Minneapolis, Babe had to admit that he couldn’t picture watching the game anywhere else but in his parents’ living room.

 “I don’t know if I can get the time off,” Babe admitted.

 Merl-Francis laughed. “You run that office. You can give yourself some days off. Take Gene with you, he needs a vacation.”

 “I have work,” Gene said.

 “Nope, you’ve got paperwork,” Merl-Francis said. “You don’t even practice much medicine anymore, running all the Thibodaux clinics. You got Anna, Renee, Sid, and Bryan to cover your shit. Take a vacation.”

 “You forgot Spina,” Babe said.

 “Ralph and Maggie conditionally asked for the time off if the Eagles made it to the Super Bowl,” Gene said. “I already approved their vacation.”

 Merl-Francis grinned from his sprawl on the couch. “They’ll be there, Mr. Heffron.”

 “I knew I could trust you, Merriell,” he said. “You and Eugene should come up as well. You’ve got to come see our city again.”

 Merl-Francis smiled like that had been his plan all along. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

 “Fuck,” Babe muttered as he threw another couple Tums into his mouth. He eyed the economy sized bottle of Excedrin as Merl-Francis started humming an off-tune version of <i>Fly Like An Eagle</i>. As he started on the second verse Babe reached for the bottle and reminded himself to pack it for the trip to Pennsport.

 <center>**********</center>

 There was a sold period of Babe’s life where he couldn’t go back to Philly. At first it was a question of safety. In the wake of Julian’s murder—and that’s what it was even if people still didn’t want to call it that—Babe was forbidden from setting foot in the city. He couldn’t explain that to his parents, didn’t want them to know everything about Ron Speirs’ more classified business dealings or the shit Babe sometimes got mired in to make an extra buck. And the more people who knew the truth, the more lives were at risk.

 After that issue got permanently resolved, Babe couldn’t return because of his own grief. It was funny, really. Babe’s grief was they excuse they used for so long while Julian’s killers were being hunted down, that even Babe forgot there was a world of truth to it. He didn’t know how deep the roots of his grief had grown, even after years, until he was asked to return to Pennsport and had an actual fucking panic attack.

 He couldn’t make himself get on a plane back then, so they drove, and honestly? Babe didn’t know what he did in his past lives to get Gene, but he was full of immense gratitude to whatever good deeds he accomplished back then.

 After overcoming that emotional hurdle, Babe made sure to visit at least twice a year. He’d just been there back in October to welcome the latest Guarnere into the world and hadn’t planned on returning again until May.

 Babe looked through the storage bins and the closet and realized he’d probably have to buy a winter coat while he was up there. The two he’d owned had already been claimed by Gene and Merl-Francis. Sledge, ever the Boy Scout, already had his own.

 “Well that’s a nice view,” Gene said.

 Babe laughed and wiggled his ass as he leaned over the bin. “At least there’s something you still like about me.”

 “I’m just with you for the life insurance and the tax break,” Gene said.

 “Figure out how you’re going to kill me yet?” Babe asked.

 “I figured with the amount of almond milk you drink I’ll just let the cyanide do its thing. Claim you must’ve got hold of some bitter almonds and made your own homemade glass of milky poison.”

 Babe looked up and had to laugh at the evil smirk on Gene’s face. “That’s horrifically brilliant.”

 Gene shrugged. “I needed something to do at the last board meeting.”

 Gene didn’t like having to play the businessman. He liked being a doctor, it was his calling, but they both knew how important it was to him to make sure lower-income and rural areas had access to decent health care clinics. It was a never-ending battle with local governments and the more religious members of the board who didn’t want to provide free contraceptives, pregnancy tests, or rides to the few Planned Parenthood clinics still in the state, but Gene always won. It was hard to argue with him when he got <i>that</i> look on his face and <i>that</i> tone in his voice.

 “Maybe you need this vacation,” Babe said.

 Gene nodded as he walked into their bedroom. “I was thinking about going down to five days a week too. Apparently there’s benefit in taking more than one day off a week.”

 Babe almost fell on his ass. “Did I just hear you speaking actual common sense?”

 “Fuck you,” Gene said with love.

 Babe grabbed an armful of sweaters and walked over to his open suitcase. “I know what this is about. It’s because you’re turning forty next year.”

 “Fuck you,” Gene repeated. He slipped his arms around Babe’s waist and rested his chin on his shoulder. “You got enough clothes there?”

 “Half of these are for you,” Babe said. He leaned back into Gene’s embrace and softly laughed. “And Merl-Francis. He’s going to have ten layers on. We’ll be able to roll his ass down the street.”

 Gene laughed in agreement. “Never could fatten that boy up.” His lips were warm when the pressed against Babe’s temple. “You happy?”

 It had been on those little traditions of theirs, to ask this, in the quiet times. The answers differed at times, but it was an honest question for an honest answer.

 “So much,” Babe said. He turned his head to meet Gene’s warm gaze. “So much,” he repeated.

 <center>**********</center>

 After the job that had cost both Bill and Joe Toye a leg a piece, they’d come back to Philly to stay. There had been some bullshit with the Department of Defense, even more with Veteran’s Affairs, and finally they’d just taken jobs with the Nixon Development Philadelphia office. Joe had been officially adopted by the Guarnere-Heffron-Julian-Spina clans. Fran and Bill had insisted Joe live with them, since their place had newly constructed ramps and handrails, and while it’d been a fight, Joe had finally given in.

 The Guarnere home was their first stop. Babe pulled their rental car up to the small strip of concrete that masqueraded as a driveway on the backend of the house. He had insisted on driving, knowing damn well his car full of backwoods country boys wouldn’t survive the trip from the airport without getting in at least three accidents. Babe smiled to himself as he got out of the car. St. Boniface was home, had been for a long time, but there was nothing like the old buildings and decorated front stoops of where he grew up. Green and white flags and Eagles logos decorated damn near everything as far as the eye could see.

 “Uncle Babe!”

 Babe braced himself as Juliana Guarnere came running down the steps at full speed.

 “You gonna dent the car,” Merl-Francis said from where he sat in the backseat, huddled up like he was about to trek the Antarctic. It wasn’t even that cold outside.

 Babe caught Juliana up in his arms and marveled at how tall she’d grown. Seven years old and already half her mother’s size. She had green and white hearts painted on her cheeks which clashed horribly with the faded orange and back Flyers t-shirt she wore.

 “Missed you, Julie,” he said, hugging her tight.

 She gave Babe another hug and then moved on to Gene before waving at Sledge. She frowned at Merl-Francis in the backseat.

 “Is he okay?”

 “He’s cold-blooded like his gator relatives. He’s just conserving his body heat,” Babe said.

 “I can hear you,” Merl-Francis said. He finally slid out of the car. “I assume there’s heat inside your house.”

 “Duh,” Juliana said. She grabbed Babe’s hand and tugged him towards the back door. “Come on! Uncle Joe’s making lunch. Uncle Ralph is supposed to be coming by too. Why didn’t he fly with you?”

 “He had his tickets long before we got ours,” Babe said.

 “’Cause he’s got more faith in the Eagles than you,” Juliana said.

 Babe laughed. “You sound like your grandmother.”

 Juliana laughed as they walked into the kitchen that smelled like ricotta and marinara. Joe Toye was balanced on a stool over the stove, slathering loaves of bread with butter.

 “Look at you all domestic and shit,” Babe said.

 Joe smirked at him and cleaned his hands on the bar towel resting on his shoulder. “I can’t cook much, but this? I’ve got it down.”

 “Smells good,” Gene said. He was looking at Joe with his doctor’s gaze, but probably only Babe and Merl-Francis knew it enough to tell. “Anything we can do to help?”

 “Yeah,” Joe said. “Get out of my kitchen. Go play with the kids. Henry’s teething, just so you know.”

 Juliana nodded. “It’s the worst.”

 “You weren’t exactly a ball of fun,” Joe said. He tugged on Juliana’s ponytail. “You going to stay here? Be my proper sous chef?”

 “Do I get first dibs on the sauce?” Juliana asked, a wicked grin on her face reminiscent of her father.

 “Of course,” Joe promised.

 “Okay,” Juliana said. She waved at Babe and Gene. “You know the way.”

 Gene led the other two out, but Babe lingered by the doorway.

 “Hey, Joe?” he said.

 “You about to start singing some Hendrix at me, Heffron?” Joe asked. “The baby wailing is enough noise.”

 Babe shook his head. Some things would never change. “Just saying, you look good.” He paused and added, “Asshole,” as a parting shot.

 “Watch your mouth,” Juliana yelled after him.

 Babe followed the sound of childish laughter to the living room. Bill Guarnere held court on the couch, little Henry is his lap sucking down a bottle and four-year-old Sofia laughing as Bill made funny faces at her, apparently more entertaining than the Bubble Guppies on the screen.

 Sledge was looking over all the family photographs on the wall, while Merl-Francis had claimed the chair closest to the heating vent. Gene was conspicuously absent.

 “Fran stole him,” Bill said.

 “Already?” Babe said. He held out his hands and took the baby and the bottle. “That’s got to be a record.”

 “We got a new big girl bed for Sofia and a canopy to go with it. The canopy is driving Fran up the wall.”

 “It’s has Elsa and Anna on it,” Sofia helpfully supplied.

 “And it lights up,” Bill said.

 “Jealous you don’t get one?” Babe asked. He shifted Henry in his arms, surprised how much he’d grown since the last time Babe had seen him, and tried not to make a face when he got spit up on.

 “Why do all your children do this to me?”

 Bill smiled, eyes tinged with memories from a lifetime together. “Maybe it’s just a Guarnere thing.”

[imreviewblog]

The Funniest Tweets From Parents This Week

Kids may say the darndest things, but parents tweet about them in the funniest ways. So each week, we round up the most hilarious 140-character quips from moms and dads to spread the joy. Scroll down to read the latest batch and follow @HuffPostParents on Twitter for more!

"Awwww they're so fun but also soul crushing at this age." - me, meeting a child of any age

— The Glad Stork (@TheGladStork) February 28, 2017

Having 3 kids means I literally have no concept of what is or is not gross to normal people anymore.

— Unfiltered Mama (@UnfilteredMama) February 28, 2017

I don't always sleep in on Sunday mornings but when I do... Just kidding. I'm a parent. I don't sleep anymore.

— MyQuestionableLife (@2questionable) February 26, 2017

Taking my kids somewhere special for a treat is a great way to find out where they would have rather gone.

— Jennifer S. White (@yenniwhite) February 28, 2017

I just broke up a fight over someone repeatedly calling someone else a “nightgown face,” if anyone wants to know what parenting is like.

— Unremarkable Files (@ThatEvansLady) February 27, 2017

My favorite part of being corrected by my 6-year-old is how he's wrong 99% of the time. My least favorite part is that other 1%.

— Dad and Buried (@DadandBuried) February 27, 2017

My 5yo just popped his eyes open from a nap and said "What can I have for dinner?" so definitely my child.

— Emily McCombs (@msemilymccombs) February 26, 2017

Everyone has practice so we can either have dinner at 4:30 or 9:00.

— Simon Holland (@simoncholland) March 1, 2017

5pm, to kids: "Stop complaining that there's nothing good to eat here! Have some fruit!" 11pm, to self: "There's nothing good to eat here."

— Six Pack Mom (@Six_Pack_Mom) March 2, 2017

Some days parenting is so rewarding and joyful and amazing… or so I’ve heard.

— Court (@Discourt) February 28, 2017

You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can, and will, be used against you by your child in a busy public setting.

— Mommy Cusses (@mommy_cusses) February 27, 2017

My 3-year-old is watching Beauty and the Beast for the first time. "Is that a broken cup?" He's wondering who is busted for breaking Chip.

— Jennifer Borget (@JenniferBorget) February 28, 2017

My parenting backup plan is to keep handing out snacks.

— Meredith (@PerfectPending) March 2, 2017

Practice makes perfect. And headaches, when it's Mary Had a Little Lamb for the bazillionth time on a recorder for school.

— Andy Herald (@AndyHerald) March 1, 2017

The worst part of my husband getting up with the kids is trying to decide if I should join him, or escape out the window & start a new life.

— Dragging Feeties (@DraggingFeeties) March 2, 2017

Having a house full of cold-ridden kids isn't so bad when you give up on life and let them watch Netflix for 12 hours a day

— Ash (@cray_at_home_ma) February 27, 2017

You are NEVER watching Wild Kratts again!! *and other irrational bedtime threats

— here comes the son (@idtweetforever) February 28, 2017

When I go grocery shopping without my kids, I use that freedom to get so much food that people must think I’m a doomsday prepper.

— The ParentNormal (@ParentNormal) March 2, 2017

My fairy tale ending: 3yo is finally, truly potty trained and the old pee smell that has become my constant laundry companion is vanquished.

— Missy (@MamaFizzles) February 28, 2017

I told my kid I wasn't going to pick up after him anymore, and then we laughed and laughed. I cherish these moments together.

— MyMomologue (@MyMomologue) March 1, 2017

6: Mom I'm sad that you're sick Me: Aw, I'll get better soon, ur so swee- 6: That's good bc I can't reach the cookies Me: 6: It's so sad

— Lurkin' Mom (@LurkAtHomeMom) March 2, 2017

CURRENT MOOD: I can hear everyone snore in my house. http://pic.twitter.com/iyJUu8B7KB

— Jacques Nyemb (@jnyemb) March 1, 2017

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from Healthy Living - The Huffington Post http://huff.to/2mjbPnU