Reasons Why We've Thought About Leaving Our Kids at the Local Fire Station

The Fuc*ing Whining. I don’t know about you, (jk, yes I do) but those days you swear if you hear the word MOM once more you’ll be committing yourself directly into the psych ward? Yep, we’ve all been there. (Probably multiple times per week if we’re really being honest here.) You somehow make it by the skin of your teeth all the way to that blissful time of the evening, when they’ve finally gone the fuc* to sleep, muster up the courage to go check on them (to make sure they’re still breathing) to see that angelic face peacefully snoozing away - followed by that feeling of guilt washing over you for ever being so mad, to begin with. Then you do it all again tomorrow. Welcome to the club, friend. You’ve found your people.

The Fuc*ing lack of sleep is enough to drive even the most patient parent to at LEAST have the thought of just a short nap-break fire station trip. Like, you’ll go back for them but first - nap. This one goes hand in hand with my next fav, the constant fuc*ing demands. If it isn’t a newborn screaming for food or exhaustion or (who even really knows what, tbh), or a toddler saying “MOM!” for the gazillionth time in any hour, of any and every given day, I will be the first to admit loud + proud that THEM KIDS DO RLY B NEEDY. And let's be honest, it isn’t always cute. Sometimes after a very long day of work, that 87th M O M of the day is the one that breaks me.

Last but not least, the Mother. Fuc*ing. Laundry.  There is somehow, always + forever, a fu*king Mount Kilimanjaro-sized pile just waiting, staring at you with judgment. Stains setting in, odor emanating, possibly on the brink of eruption. (Don’t - you know exactly what I’m saying.) You go through those spurts of “a load a day keeps the laundry at bay!” B.S., which, eventually, you forget about. How quickly that bay turns into the pacific ocean.

Do I sometimes daydream about abandoning my daughter at the local fire station? I’d be lying if I said I didn’t (and so do you, shut up), but would I ACTUALLY follow through? Not for a billion dollars. THAT’S RIGHT, I SAID A BILLION. (EDIE IF YOU’RE READING THIS 40 YEARS FROM NOW, YOU BEST BE PUTTING ME INTO THE BEST NURSING HOME GIRL). Would 20-year-old me cackle at the thought of turning down a billion dollars to give my kid away? 1000%. I can’t even picture what my life would be like without my (albeit, annoying) tiny shadow in it, and although sometimes we parents REALLY do need a break now and then - I know you wouldn’t, either. (Even for a billion dollars.)