The Most Important Post I'll EVER Write.

You know what I should be doing? School work.

But, I’m not.

You know why?

Because I need to write the most important post I’ll probably ever write in my whole life.

Check it out.

In 3 years, when my toddler is just four, probably going to preschool and really not needing me quite so much, and I consequently have a relapse of the terminal disease known among medical journals as “I Really Really Really Think I Need a New Baby,” please remind me of the following few moments. No really, please.

Before we get into this, let me just say that when the time comes, you must be strong in the face of this insidious disease. I will tell you I really really need a newborn, and we can totally afford it and if I don’t have it my life will seem incomplete and I’ll regret it forever.

I will suddenly, defying all reason, only remember the most glorious moments spent with my children as infants. I will tell you I loved the toddler stage. If I hold your baby, I may get a little teary-eyed in joyful nostalgia. I will stare at pregnant women with a splash of longing in my eyes, forgetting completely that I FREAKING HATE BEING PREGNANT. Babies will appear radiant to me in their loveliness, like handfuls of sunlight woven together with silken threads of joy. I just threw up a little in my mouth.

So despite all this, you must look me in the eye and tell me these things. Please. I’m relying on you. You are my only hope of not having another damn kid.

Remind me of…

  • Trying to take a shower. Remind me of the fact that I have to hold the sliding shower door shut with one hand the entire time I’m showering lest the toddler enter with me, drenching herself. Remind me of the screams and wails of despair echoing in the bathroom as she bemoans her rejected state, and I try to shower with one hand.
  • Changing the diaper of a 15-month old. Remind me of the squirming. Of the hand that shoots down like lightening to grab the poop. Just outta nowhere…BOOM!!! Poop everywhere. Remind me of that.
  • The batshit crazy hour each night. Remind me of that hour each day when the toddler is too tired to do ANYTHING – even just stand there motionless – but not tired enough to sleep. Remind me of holding her on my hip while I try to do everything else for the other two kids. Cook. Eat. Laundry. Etc. Remind me of the inability to set her down for even three freaking seconds because…because why? Because who the hell knows why. Because toddlers are lunatics. Remind me of that.
  • The toddler path of destruction. Remind me of the way she spends pretty much every waking moment destroying things – over-turning, pulling down, shoving off, shoving in, dumping, hitting. Nonstop destruction. Nonstop work for me. Not for neatness, but for life. To keep her from injuring herself. Remind me of that.
  • And finally, the perfectly timed, toddlers-must-be-in-tune-with-the-inner-workings-of-the-universe wake up moment. You know what I’m talking about, right? That moment when you are drifting off to sleep, finally. That giant cloud of relief spread out beneath you, begging you to fall, completely, into vast lovely sleep. And you’re drifting, settling down into sweet relaxation. Bliss And just as you’re about to fall into that bliss…you hear it. The grumble. The whine. The wahhhhhhhh. And you realize she ain’t going back to sleep and once again, you aren’t getting a decent night’s sleep and you will spend tomorrow in hazy exhaustion.  Again. You roll out of bed. Stumbling. Cursing the whole deal.

Swearing you’re never going to have another baby.

Friends, remind me of that.

You see?

The most important post I’ll ever write.

Do you people think I’m kidding? Because I’m not.

Don’t fail me here.

Maybe we should start a support group for this. We could get together for meetings every week and invite people with toddlers. Then just watch. And REMEMBER.

Anybody interested?


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