Some people think they’re funny, and other people can’t help it. Ginny is the latter, and she tickles my funny bone often @ Praying to Darwin.
Brian was nice enough to ask me to guest blog for him. He wanted a piece on the changes brought about by parenthood. And for the next two days, I had that damn David Bowie song running through my head. “Ch-ch-ch-changes”. Catchy and annoying, all at once. So I had no choice but to finally stop procrastinating, and just write the thing, if only to stop that bloody song.
I have two children. A son who’s five and a half, and a daughter who’s two and a half. They’re awesome. They’re funny. They’re mean. They’re imaginative. They’re lazy. They’re little enigmas, and they’re just a little different every day. I love them like crazy. But there can be no doubt that I am not the same person I was 6 years ago. The changes were gradual, some small, some enormous. And some of them are weird. If you’ve ever been to my blog, you know I loves me a good list, so without further ado, the changes children have wrought upon me:
- I now possess incredible foresight. “Can I have a cookie?” If I give you the cookie, you’ll leave me alone, and I’ll get 5 minutes of peace. But you won’t eat lunch. Then I’ll try to get you to eat something. You’ll be late for your nap. You won’t sleep long enough. I won’t get you to bed on time tonight. Which means your dad & I won’t get to bed at our normal time. Which means there will be no “Mommy & Daddy Time” (if you know what I mean) (and you shouldn’t know what I mean, because we’re pretty stringent about locking the bedroom door). If I give you that cookie, Daddy & I will be in rotten moods tomorrow. So, no, you can’t have a cookie.
- Nine times out of 10, I can catch puke before it hits the floor. I’ve been gifted with cat-like reflexes.
- My eyesight got better. Most women’s eyes get worse. I’m not sure what happened. Maybe my eyes just knew we wouldn’t be able to afford silly things like glasses for Mommy. I don’t know. But I’m 20/20 for the first time since I was a kid, so that’s cool.
- I don’t get sick. Well, not much. If the rest of the family is down with the flu, there’s a good chance I’m fine. Actually, I feel shaky for about a half hour. Then I just kind of get over it, and continue on. Seriously, I should be in a medical journal somewhere.
- I’m even LESS patient. I thought having kids was supposed to help with that. It hasn’t.
- My memory is taken up with child related stuff. I know that the red Wiggle is Murray. I couldn’t tell you the capital of Rwanda anymore. I know that my son was 22 ½ inches long when he was born. I don’t remember how to make a Long Island Iced Tea.
- I read a quote (I can’t remember who said it; see previous item) to the effect that parenthood is like trying to walk around with your heart on the outside of your body. It is. I will never, ever trust as easily as I did before I became a parent.
- I never knew what I wanted to do with my life, before I had kids. Now, I think of at least one thing a day I “can’t” do, because of the kids.
- I nursed two babies for a combined total of 17 months. My boobs are two tube socks full of sand.
- Right after I gave birth the first time, I commented that my stomach looked like something out of a Dr. Seuss book. Shockingly, having a second baby didn’t make it any better.
- I am pretty sure I will never feel rested again. You could pack for a year-long cruise (formal dress dinners with the ship’s captain included) in the bags under my eyes.
- I might as well dress in striped shirt, because I’ve turned into a referee. Yesterday’s 45 minute argument: which one of my kids, in the event of a tornado, should be left upstairs, in charge of “kicking” said storm into submission. No, seriously. At about the 20 minute mark, I stopped admiring their creativity. At the 30 minute mark, I started making a loud humming sound, in a vain attempt to stop hearing them. At the 40 minute mark, I fantasized that their tongues fell out. Rather unbecoming for a mother, I think.
A friend of mine compared the experience of having children to military boot camp. You get there, all cocky, long-haired, full of ideals. Then those little drill sergeants break you down, and build you back up, into a completely different person.
And, so far, I feel like it’s a better person.