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You Can't Live Here


You have not been formally inducted into motherhood, until you have reached the point of evicting your own kid.


Not only will kids test your patience and prey on your weaknesses, but that, along with all of life’s stresses will have you clawing out of a corner. Every mother reaches that one breaking point in life when she has given all she had, and she has taken all she could take. We’ve weighed the pros and cons and called on the name of Jesus. The bills are due, the verdict is in, and I can (in fact) do bad all by myself! These kids have GOT to go!


For some people, these eviction feelings come early in the process. Life with a newborn is a gamechanger, and if you aren’t prepared, you’ll be caught off-guard: “Oh no. We can’t have all this crying up in here. To Grandmother’s house you go”. You just evicted that baby! Others make it further along in childhood. Now, there are fighting kids in the backseat that you have told repeatedly to “RELAX”. So, you do a quick swerve off the road and come to a screeching stop on the shoulder and scream, “Get out and start walking”. You just attempted to evict those children! Or maybe, your kid is 18, has just graduated high school, and is not interested in becoming a “productive citizen” quite yet. At that point, the eviction may actually be legal, but unfortunately, you still fall under the crazy parent subdivision with the rest of us.


Well, over this past weekend, I found myself at the end of my rope. I was at a crossroads. I had been disrespected, unappreciated, and lied to. I had had enough. With everyone smirking, living their best life, and silently calling my bluff, I opened the front door and told my oldest five children to: “GET OUT! ….and don’t take anything with you, just go”. I shut the door behind them, and amidst my silent victory, I thought, “who is smirking now, Daimon?”. There is just something maliciously gratifying about taking matters into your own hands and dealing out some real consequences.


The boys lounged on the porch, walked the perimeter of the house, and peered through the windows. At one point, I could hear them laughing and joking, and a few of them began chanting: “No! We ain’t gonna take it”. It was all fun and games, until me, Varday, and Davis got in the van and pulled off to head to the store, leaving 5 kids (one of whom was shirtless and sockless) behind on a perfectly nippy, October afternoon.

Here’s the thing though- these situations of parent frustration and child eviction are rarely discussed, and I’ll tell you why. It’s because the actual “facts” that led up to the eviction are never justified upon re-telling the story. Instead, the kid is spoiled, the parent is petty, and nothing was thought-out, rationally.

“They were screaming in the car.”

“Sooo, you put them out on a major highway?”

“Yes, that was the sequence of events."


It is never justified, after the fact! So, for that reason, I won’t go into the details of my eviction story. It’s irrelevant. But what is relevant is this- Mothers are stressed out, overworked, and underpaid. Our hair is gray and our blood pressure is high. So, when I say… “Who used my facial moisturizer?”, somebody better come forward.

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