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After celebrating Mother's Day this past weekend, I'm not afraid to toot my own horn and say that my kids are huge fans of their mama.  In fact, my poor husband is often shoved to the side when it comes to which parent they prefer.  And as hunky dory as this all may sound in theory, it isn't always sunshine and roses.

For example, I could be all the way upstairs in my bathroom with the door closed, seeking just a split second of peaceful peeing (ok, stop laughing!!!), and my kids will literally hunt my ass down to deal with the most asinine of situations.  Never mind the fact that their father is literally two feet in front of their oblivious little faces, they still seem to find it necessary to come all the way upstairs, through the closed freaking doors to ask me to get them a snack or to referee an argument.

I mean, I know I'm pretty talented and everything, but I prefer to not have to demonstrate my skills from the pole position of the shitter.  I suppose I should be thrilled to have my little admirers come to me for the answers to all of life's problems, but sometimes it'd be nice if they'd let their more-than-qualified papa take the wheel for a bit.  It gets tiring being the captain all the time....

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