You might be a parent if . . .

OK! I'm done! There's no avocado left!
  • Your breakfast was made up of goldfish crackers and banana remnants picked off of a high chair tray.
  • So was your dinner.
  • You can change a diaper with one hand, while entertaining your baby by paging through a book and stacking blocks with the other hand.
  • You can change a diaper on a toddler stumbling across the room or scrambling down the hallway. In fact, you never change a diaper any other way.
  • You find Cheerios at your feet during meetings. And when you’re visiting friends who have no kids. And at the gas station. And in the elevator–in someone else’s building.
  • You consider anything over four consecutive hours a full night’s sleep.
  • Coffee forms the base of your food pyramid.
  • Anything that you can do, you can do better with only one hand (while the other hand precariously balances 25 flailing, screaming pounds of toddler on your opposite hip).
  • You let yourself be bossed around by someone who
    • craps on you and makes you wipe his ass
    • screams to wake you up in the middle of the night and make you go to work
    • wakes you up when he’s ready for you to start working
    • won’t let you stop working until long after he’s done for the day
    • never gives you a day off
    • gives you illnesses but never gives you a sick day
    • screams for you to come back whenever you leave
    • screams at you when you do something wrong
    • screams at you when you do something right
    • injures himself after putting himself in increasingly precarious and perilous situations and then blames you, screaming
    • assumes that he has full and complete possession of whatever possessions you thought were yours before he arrived
    • breaks as many of your valuable former possessions as he can get his hands on
    • tips over anything within reach–especially tall furniture–and doesn’t look back, expecting you to pick up after him
    • throws food at you
    • throws utensils at you
    • throws bowls at you
    • throws food jars at you
    • hits you
    • kicks you
    • bites you
    • speaks in an incomprehensible “language” and expects you to intuit, even anticipate, his every desire
    • requires constant stimulation and amusement
    • makes you to tell him the same story 100 times in a row and then still doesn’t understand it
  • And you love it, not just for the smiles and the hugs and the cuddles but for the love, which comes without conditions, cause, or restraint.

Not that I was ever that age . . .

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  • You were too that age, and you did all those things. I remember.

    Big Sister

  • “Coffee forms the base of your food pyramid.”

    Hilarious. And so true.

  • CA Girl: That you still talk to me after all of that is the most touching thing I’ve heard all day, other than Mama saying, “Happy anniversary!”

    Shannon: Safe to assume that cream and sugar are the next two layers up from coffee on your food pyramid?

  • They are, actually.

    …just not in my coffee, please. I prefer them in ice cream form.

  • You forgot the chocolate. Naptime is all about the hidden stash of chocolate.

    Your list is an enumeration of why around here we often call our children “heathens.” They are little uncivilized monkeys, aren’t they?

  • Your mission, should you choose to accept it is to civilize those heathens. It takes longer than half an hour to complete the mission.

  • yeah…I don’t remember reading all of those things in the job description when I accepted this job….

  • Shannon: So, coffee ice cream, then? I’ve always been partial to the Beastie Boys line, “I like my sugar with coffee and cream,” even though I like my coffee with just coffee, thank you very much.

    CA Girl/Henitsirk: It will take me longer than half an hour to civilize myself, which I presume I have to do before I civilize 3B. Or maybe we should just buy a small island, go all Marlon Brando, and forget about civilization.

    L-P: You got a job description? I got, “Good luck. Don’t screw up.”