Parenthood- All the Things You Think You Won't Do
It's a slow decline really. You start off all fresh faced and ready to tackle this whole parenting thing. You see those that have gone before you and think that you won't do that. HA. Just HA. Being that we got a later start than most of our friends we got to observe quite a bit of parenting so we thought we were golden. Feel free to laugh at how we actually thought this whole having kids thing was gonna go down. We picked up useful tips too but those aren't the funny ones.
We aren't going to watch a ton of TV in our house.
No sir! We are not going to use the TV to babysit our kids. We will be doing something educational and Pinterest worthy at all times. That's really funny. Like hilarious. We started with Bee being able to watch one 30 minute episode of Bubble Guppies while I cooked dinner. Then I was pregnant with Fox- face down on the playroom floor trying not to vomit or wishing I could just vomit in peace. That upped the episodes to 2-3 per day. Then I actually had that baby and then got cancer and was on bed rest. We just threw everything out the window at that point. Bee actually says to me "Baby, do you want to watch a movie?" My own words being thrown back down my throat. Oy. So it was princess movies out the ying yang for a while. Now that I'm upright we're fighting the good fight to scale back.
I won't be a slave to a baby's schedule
You get pregnant with your first kid and think "I'll be that on the go parent. Throw that baby in the Ergo and off we go." Bahaha. Then your tender little nugget pops out and life goes to pot. You discover that sweet little nugget likes to sleep swaddled in a rock n play with ocean noises blaring and a humidifier set on the loudest setting. It sounds like a hurricane in there. But now that's the point. How else do you drown out the high pitched banshee wailing of someone relegated to time out? Hum. That doesn't travel so well. You realize that little nugget will sleep for 30 minutes in a stroller and wake like a whiny devil or sleep for two hours at home and wake happy. And then you witness the toddler skip a nap. Lawdy. The screaming and wailing could peel the paint off the walls. And when that stops the whining begins. I start twitching at this point. There's no fixing it. Just no fixing it at all. Just give up and lay on the floor and wait for the toddler to jump on your head to knock you out. I'll just keep my schedule thankyouverymuch.
I will cook dinner/not eat chicken nuggets all the time/feed my children consistently
I used to be a recipe junkie. Loved to try new recipes and my husband would ask why we never had that good chicken thing from 2 months ago. Because I was too busy printing out something new. Then I had a baby, then I had another. Couple that with a lot of the time being asked to cook for just myself and the kids because of James' work schedule. Now we're lucky if we don't eat spaghetti twice a week. Most of the time by dinnertime I'm ready to lay down on the floor and quit. If it was left up to me we would eat dry cereal but the people I live with keep refusing to conform to my plan! And they just want to keep eating. Like all the freaking time. We just finished our snacks and now its mealtime again. Then throw in some food allergies and we should just all give up. Just give up and eat chicken nuggets. Or as my daughter requests, almost everyday, just pack up the car and head to Chipotle.
I do NOT like Disneyland and you will NOT make me go
I will admit it. I hate theme parks. I hate crowds. I hate people. Just masses of people and their screaming children and bumping into me and exhaustive lines and overpriced everything. I just broke out into hives just thinking about it. I have always been of the mind that we will do the "Disney thing" when the kids are old enough to beg me to go. Until we hit Disney Princess mania in my house and a wee little Bee is just over the moon obsessed with princesses. And then I thought just how over the moon excited she would be to go see the princesses and the castle and the everything. Everything is magical to her at this age and don't I just want to give her everything in the world? So I have effectively caved and am planning at trip to Disneyland next year. Somebody better slip me a mickey to help me deal with it all. The kind in my drink. That mouse better not touch me.
I do NOT need a DVD player in my car
This I said to myself when we were buying a new-to-me SUV for the arrival of our Bee. Nah. We don't need that. We don't travel that often. Why would we need one? No one had ever locked me in a box with a 2 year old and a baby and asked me to entertain them both. Now I have a portable DVD player and a thingy that hangs it off the head rest. The last time we went to Mexico my daughter refused to get out of the car at our pit stop because she wanted to continue her movie marathon. Which lasted the entire trip with the exception of her 30 minute nap. She was pleased as punch. This allowed me to feed/calm/entertain/pray for mercy with our infant. Worth every penny. As soon as my son is old enough I'll buy another one and attach it to the other head rest and not be ashamed about it. Then I might even pack a magazine in my bag. What a concept.
That iPad is MINE. Did you not hear me, it's MINE!
I got an IPad for my birthday. MY birthday. I'd been enjoying Facetiming with my Dad on a big screen and perusing Amazon on the couch. Then two year molars hit my house. Desperation, tears and fevers were thick in the air. I downloaded Disney Princess Salon and a monster was born. Now sick or not we want to play on "Momma's IPad." At least it's still called mine. I hide it now in an act of avoidance.Go ahead, call me a coward.
This is my living room, the toys will stay in the playroom
My house used to look a lot bigger than it does right now. Now it looks cramped, cluttered and there are random plastic pieces of toys that have rolled to every corner. Not to mention the jumper in a corner, the playmat on the floor and the endless Little People Princesses everywhere. And we have a playroom! We are blessed enough to have a house with a playroom that is packed to the gills with an assortment of rainbow colored plastic and wood kids toys. It looks like a toy store was shaken up and then blown up in there. But it refuses to just stay in there. Almost everyday I drop kick- literally drop kick- stuffed animals from the entry way back into that room. My two year old can't stand being away from me. I know, I'm that super cool, envy me. So if I'm cooking/brushing my teeth at 4 pm/cleaning spit up off the floor/feeding the baby then all the plastic pieces from the playroom start to follow me and effectively get stepped on by me. I used to be fairly confident that since we had a playroom that I could contain all of the toys in that one room. And they'd actually stay there. Oh sweet naive idealist that I was. She's dead now and buried under the princess tent.
Flying on a plane is fun!
Yes, flying on a plane is fun. When you get to do it ALONE. Or the very least with your hubby and/or friends. You get to order a cocktail, read a book, sleep, look out the window. You know. Fun things. You are not locked in a steel tube with a squirmy two year old and a overtired infant. People look alarmed as you walk down the isle like they might be unlucky enough to be seated by you. And they actually expect you to keep said two year old in a seat with a seat belt on. For like three hours. HA. Just ha. I refuse to fly with less than a two adult to one child ratio which means I need my mother. Oh how I need my mother. I pack an entire bag of stuff just to keep pulling something else out of that bag to entertain her. Playdough, stickers, movies, snacks, books, toys. I pray we arrived before the bag runs dry. I arrive exhausted, I mean dragging myself off the plane ready to fall on the tarmac. You know who is not exhausted when we arrive? My two year old. Wired for sound is what she is.
I don't respond to terrorist demands
It is bedtime. Bedtime I say. I have a short window between 8 pm and 9:30 pm where is it supposed to be my time. It should be quiet! That means I don't want to hear your voice saying "It's my birthday Ta-da!" or singing "Let it Go" from your crib. I do not want to go into your room for the 8th time for you to coo at me and beckon me to put your paci back in your mouth. I love you both but go the F to sleep. Will one more kiss blown from the door make you shut up? Ok there it is. Mommy is going to open a bottle of wine now. After "me time" comes sleep time for Mommy. When I crawl into my bed after a long day. Then it happens. I blissfully drift off to sleep and then the squawk over the monitor. My whole body tenses. For the love of all that is holy it is 2 am. What do you WANT? I will find it. I will get it for you. Your sister will be up in just a few short hours and I'm exhausted. Please leave me in peace to sleep for a few hours. Do you want milk? A paci? $20? Really you want nothing but to see my haggard face so you can drift back off to sleep. Beast.
And of course I love *almost* every minute of it and wouldn't change a thing. I may squawk about it but I usually find my two year old hilarious and my 6 month old adorable. On a good day.
We aren't going to watch a ton of TV in our house.
No sir! We are not going to use the TV to babysit our kids. We will be doing something educational and Pinterest worthy at all times. That's really funny. Like hilarious. We started with Bee being able to watch one 30 minute episode of Bubble Guppies while I cooked dinner. Then I was pregnant with Fox- face down on the playroom floor trying not to vomit or wishing I could just vomit in peace. That upped the episodes to 2-3 per day. Then I actually had that baby and then got cancer and was on bed rest. We just threw everything out the window at that point. Bee actually says to me "Baby, do you want to watch a movie?" My own words being thrown back down my throat. Oy. So it was princess movies out the ying yang for a while. Now that I'm upright we're fighting the good fight to scale back.
I won't be a slave to a baby's schedule
You get pregnant with your first kid and think "I'll be that on the go parent. Throw that baby in the Ergo and off we go." Bahaha. Then your tender little nugget pops out and life goes to pot. You discover that sweet little nugget likes to sleep swaddled in a rock n play with ocean noises blaring and a humidifier set on the loudest setting. It sounds like a hurricane in there. But now that's the point. How else do you drown out the high pitched banshee wailing of someone relegated to time out? Hum. That doesn't travel so well. You realize that little nugget will sleep for 30 minutes in a stroller and wake like a whiny devil or sleep for two hours at home and wake happy. And then you witness the toddler skip a nap. Lawdy. The screaming and wailing could peel the paint off the walls. And when that stops the whining begins. I start twitching at this point. There's no fixing it. Just no fixing it at all. Just give up and lay on the floor and wait for the toddler to jump on your head to knock you out. I'll just keep my schedule thankyouverymuch.
I will cook dinner/not eat chicken nuggets all the time/feed my children consistently
I used to be a recipe junkie. Loved to try new recipes and my husband would ask why we never had that good chicken thing from 2 months ago. Because I was too busy printing out something new. Then I had a baby, then I had another. Couple that with a lot of the time being asked to cook for just myself and the kids because of James' work schedule. Now we're lucky if we don't eat spaghetti twice a week. Most of the time by dinnertime I'm ready to lay down on the floor and quit. If it was left up to me we would eat dry cereal but the people I live with keep refusing to conform to my plan! And they just want to keep eating. Like all the freaking time. We just finished our snacks and now its mealtime again. Then throw in some food allergies and we should just all give up. Just give up and eat chicken nuggets. Or as my daughter requests, almost everyday, just pack up the car and head to Chipotle.
I do NOT like Disneyland and you will NOT make me go
I will admit it. I hate theme parks. I hate crowds. I hate people. Just masses of people and their screaming children and bumping into me and exhaustive lines and overpriced everything. I just broke out into hives just thinking about it. I have always been of the mind that we will do the "Disney thing" when the kids are old enough to beg me to go. Until we hit Disney Princess mania in my house and a wee little Bee is just over the moon obsessed with princesses. And then I thought just how over the moon excited she would be to go see the princesses and the castle and the everything. Everything is magical to her at this age and don't I just want to give her everything in the world? So I have effectively caved and am planning at trip to Disneyland next year. Somebody better slip me a mickey to help me deal with it all. The kind in my drink. That mouse better not touch me.
I do NOT need a DVD player in my car
This I said to myself when we were buying a new-to-me SUV for the arrival of our Bee. Nah. We don't need that. We don't travel that often. Why would we need one? No one had ever locked me in a box with a 2 year old and a baby and asked me to entertain them both. Now I have a portable DVD player and a thingy that hangs it off the head rest. The last time we went to Mexico my daughter refused to get out of the car at our pit stop because she wanted to continue her movie marathon. Which lasted the entire trip with the exception of her 30 minute nap. She was pleased as punch. This allowed me to feed/calm/entertain/pray for mercy with our infant. Worth every penny. As soon as my son is old enough I'll buy another one and attach it to the other head rest and not be ashamed about it. Then I might even pack a magazine in my bag. What a concept.
That iPad is MINE. Did you not hear me, it's MINE!
I got an IPad for my birthday. MY birthday. I'd been enjoying Facetiming with my Dad on a big screen and perusing Amazon on the couch. Then two year molars hit my house. Desperation, tears and fevers were thick in the air. I downloaded Disney Princess Salon and a monster was born. Now sick or not we want to play on "Momma's IPad." At least it's still called mine. I hide it now in an act of avoidance.Go ahead, call me a coward.
This is my living room, the toys will stay in the playroom
My house used to look a lot bigger than it does right now. Now it looks cramped, cluttered and there are random plastic pieces of toys that have rolled to every corner. Not to mention the jumper in a corner, the playmat on the floor and the endless Little People Princesses everywhere. And we have a playroom! We are blessed enough to have a house with a playroom that is packed to the gills with an assortment of rainbow colored plastic and wood kids toys. It looks like a toy store was shaken up and then blown up in there. But it refuses to just stay in there. Almost everyday I drop kick- literally drop kick- stuffed animals from the entry way back into that room. My two year old can't stand being away from me. I know, I'm that super cool, envy me. So if I'm cooking/brushing my teeth at 4 pm/cleaning spit up off the floor/feeding the baby then all the plastic pieces from the playroom start to follow me and effectively get stepped on by me. I used to be fairly confident that since we had a playroom that I could contain all of the toys in that one room. And they'd actually stay there. Oh sweet naive idealist that I was. She's dead now and buried under the princess tent.
Flying on a plane is fun!
Yes, flying on a plane is fun. When you get to do it ALONE. Or the very least with your hubby and/or friends. You get to order a cocktail, read a book, sleep, look out the window. You know. Fun things. You are not locked in a steel tube with a squirmy two year old and a overtired infant. People look alarmed as you walk down the isle like they might be unlucky enough to be seated by you. And they actually expect you to keep said two year old in a seat with a seat belt on. For like three hours. HA. Just ha. I refuse to fly with less than a two adult to one child ratio which means I need my mother. Oh how I need my mother. I pack an entire bag of stuff just to keep pulling something else out of that bag to entertain her. Playdough, stickers, movies, snacks, books, toys. I pray we arrived before the bag runs dry. I arrive exhausted, I mean dragging myself off the plane ready to fall on the tarmac. You know who is not exhausted when we arrive? My two year old. Wired for sound is what she is.
I don't respond to terrorist demands
It is bedtime. Bedtime I say. I have a short window between 8 pm and 9:30 pm where is it supposed to be my time. It should be quiet! That means I don't want to hear your voice saying "It's my birthday Ta-da!" or singing "Let it Go" from your crib. I do not want to go into your room for the 8th time for you to coo at me and beckon me to put your paci back in your mouth. I love you both but go the F to sleep. Will one more kiss blown from the door make you shut up? Ok there it is. Mommy is going to open a bottle of wine now. After "me time" comes sleep time for Mommy. When I crawl into my bed after a long day. Then it happens. I blissfully drift off to sleep and then the squawk over the monitor. My whole body tenses. For the love of all that is holy it is 2 am. What do you WANT? I will find it. I will get it for you. Your sister will be up in just a few short hours and I'm exhausted. Please leave me in peace to sleep for a few hours. Do you want milk? A paci? $20? Really you want nothing but to see my haggard face so you can drift back off to sleep. Beast.
And of course I love *almost* every minute of it and wouldn't change a thing. I may squawk about it but I usually find my two year old hilarious and my 6 month old adorable. On a good day.
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