There are many, many times I look around at my kids and I wonder who in the world thought the Hubs and I were smart enough and mature enough to be parents.  Come on now- when I picture myself I still picture 17 year old me, I don’t picture 32 year old me with my two kids, a house, a 401K & two car payments.

Most of the time the Hubs and I keep our 17 year olds in check around the kids.  The key is to make them think we’re mature and responsible even if we’re not, otherwise they’ll start running this crazy house. But every once in a while we slip up and then I walk around wondering what in the hell we were thinking.

Like why in the world did the Hubs think it was funny to show my 5 year old, the King of Potty Jokes, the “pull my finger” gag? Funny at the time? Yes.  Funny when his pre-school teacher tells you how Scorch shared the joke with his friends during classtime? Ummm…no.

And why did I think telling Scorch what a wedgie was was a good idea? Now I have a kid who throws the word into every conversation he can when he’s not too busy yanking up his own pants or, worse yet poor Bean’s pants, to show us just what a wedgie is.

How about laughing the first time the Bean tooted in the tub and bubbles came to the surface? That was funny once, now it’s just getting old as she screams for us to see what she’s doing every single time she’s taking a bath.

And while I still think telling our kids the anatomically correct names for their private parts was/is a good idea, it has come back to bite me a time or two when the Bean yells out in the middle of the grocery store that her pen.is hurts.  And when I very quietly remind her that she does not actually have a pen.is, she says just as loudly as before, “Oh I meant my vag.ina.”  Yup, I know you did kid. Thanks for sharing with everyone within a 20 foot radius.

I’m not quite sure when you’re deemed mature enough to raise kids, but honestly, I don’t think the Hubs and I are there yet.