As mothers, part of our job description is to frantically Google symptoms we or our family members are experiencing in order to come up with a crazy-as-shit self-diagnosis before calling the doctor. 90% of the time, that diagnosis is imminent death, and 100% of the time, our doctors are tired of our bullshit antics (and wish they’d never given us the number to their cell phone).
Heaviness in one’s backside that is only relieved when in the seated position
An odd attraction to the couch or bed
Feeling unmotivated
Chronic sighing
Performs procrastination at least 3 times a day
Heavy shrugging
You have: The “Meh”sles
Check the calendar, because it’s likely a Monday. The “Meh”sles are a common response when one realizes that the house is going to look like a disaster 10 minutes after cleaning it. Typically, this condition sets in when one is caffeine deprived. So, all the time.
Misses play dates
General forgetfulness
Snapping fingers while trying to remember the thing. The one thing.
Others express concern for your IQ
Using nicknames instead of real names
Entering a room with no clue WTF you went in there for
Buying groceries you already have, convinced you DON’T have them
You have: Mom Brain
Pretentious Pinning
Gets upset when significant other isn’t Ryan Gosling or Tom Hardy
Likes to embellish events on social media
Becomes irate when checking bank account balance
Difficulty with accepting facts
You have: Irritable Reality Syndrome
Low threshold for bullshit
Urge to roll your eyes into the back of your skull
Sighing for prolonged periods of time
Cup of care is mysteriously empty
Urge to scream
Feeling like one’s “bubble” is being trampled on
You have the: Can-You-Not’s?
Can-You-Not’s run rampant when one’s fucks count reaches zero, and often accompany that time of the month. Sometimes, the Can-You-Not’s can be the cause of a soul-draining adult succubus who is executing a brutally uninteresting small-talk attack.
Repeatedly starting the dryer
Letting the dishes “soak” for days
Associates laundry with feelings of depression
Manic chanting of the words: “I don’t fucking want to!”
You have: Chore-A-Phobia
Chore-A-Phobia is the result of one’s realization that adulthood is a bunch of complete and utter fuckery. Often, one experiences deep anger and resentment whilst remembering their adolescent desires to grow up. Those with Chore-A-Phobia have reported an odd phenomenon where dishes pile up and dirty clothes seem to just sprout out of the carpet.
Temporary Tourettes
Itchy middle finger on one or both hands that is relieved once raised
Reddened complexion
Sudden feelings of rage
Urge to shake things
Abrupt need to consume alcohol
Symptoms lessen after cursing
You have: Pink Eye Of The Soul
Stop what you’re doing right now and look at your surroundings because there is most-likely an asshole nearby. Assholery extremely contagious. Even brief contact with an asshole can result in pink-eye of your soul.
Feeling like a giant pile of gross
Greasy hair
Partial to loose-fitting clothing
Gets mistaken for a homeless person
Wears hair in an up-do (and not the fancy kind)
Extreme aversion to pants
You have: Frump Infection
Frump Infection is a chronic occurrence experienced by many. Those who suffer this condition usually do not realize they are infected until a stranger picks a foreign object out of their hair. “Frumpies” get wrapped up in daily responsibilities, and that’s when the infection sets in. People with Frump Infection have busted Give-A-Damn’s, and when the infection lies dormant, they are unrecognizable.
Obsession with yoga pants
Using wine to self-medicate
Aggressively uses the side-eye
Feeling barely coherent
Constipated with feelings?
Insatiable craving for chocolate?
Crying over sappy commercials?
Peeing a little while laughing, jumping, or sneezing?
Constant nagging?
Frequent exhaustion?
Cries over spilt milk (especially breast milk)?
Diagnosis: Motherhood
Some days it’s the best thing you’ve ever done, some days you’re ready to fake your own death, create a new identity, and go live in a van down by the river. At the end of the day, though, you wouldn’t trade this mom gig for anything.
