Motherhood. It’s making me talk funny.

It’s bizarre, I’ve never had any trouble communicating…right up until I became a mom.

Like I start talking to the kids and the words that are coming out of my mouth don’t seem to be the same as the words going into their ears. You know how in cartoons one dude starts speaking in English and it morphs into Martian gibberish in slow mo and everyone looks at him funny. That’s exactly how I feel sometimes.

Kids. They’re making me lose my ability to communicate.

My actual words: Sit down and eat your food.

What they hear: Run around the table like wild animals, then dig at the rice with your fingers, making sure it gets into your hair, face and clothes. If you must use the spoon, try to stab at the food so it falls out everywhere.

***

My actual words: Don’t play with the bidet while you poop.

What they hear: GO AHEAD, PLAY WITH THE BIDET WHILE YOU POOP. Try to aim for the ceiling so it looks like a fountain.

***

My actual words: Guys, it’s time for bed.

What they hear: Guys, it’s time to make yourself pee, and then get so thirsty that you’re dying for a teeny tiny sip of water, and then kiss your baby brother, and then your stomach will hurt so you need to poop, and then it’s time for more water and 5 more kisses, and when you’re finally out of excuses, wait for mommy to leave the room so you can dance in the dark for another 30 minutes.

***

My actual words: Let’s be quiet for 5 minutes, mommy needs to make a work call.

What they hear: IT’S TIME TO PARTY LIKE IT’S 1999!!! C’mon, let me hear you SCREAMMMMM!!

My actual words: Go brush your teeth.

What the hear: Pour soap all over the sink and try to make a foam party. Then spread the foam all over your body so you don’t waste it. Throw in some water as well. And while you’re at it, smear toothpaste all over the walls, it’s like art.