Things No One Warned Me About Prior To Kids
Any career aspirations as a high flying trampoline artist are gone. No longer can you jump on a trampoline without dire consequences and a change of clothing waiting in the wings.
Your boobs will inadvertently be flashed to complete strangers as well as family and friends by your children sticking their hands down the front of your shirt while perched on your hip. Every shirt you own will be covered in snot, drool, chewed up animal crackers and stickers while slowly being converted from a crew to a V-neck. Or, more like a U neck.
You will give birth to the most embarrassing friends you have. They will say things that you couldn't imagine in your wildest dreams being said to complete strangers. They will tell people all the intimate details of your life - true or not. They will pants you in line at Marshalls and you will be wearing your HAWTEST pair of granny panties and then yell that you are "nakey" in case anyone back in the shoe department missed it. They will announce very loudly that "Mommy just farted!" when it was really the ketchup bottles fault. You cannot shake them.
Your hair will fall out. It will not grow back in places where you want it to be. It will, however, grow back in places you absolutely DON'T want it to be. You may also lose a tooth (or two and end up needing a horribly painful root canal) because your growing children suck every single nutrient out of you - even if you take all the vitamins and do absolutely everything your OB/GYN recommends for a healthy pregnancy that doesn't suck out your soul and deplete your calcium reserves.
You lose many brain cells. They do not return. Therefore you will have no short term memory. You will remember lyrics from a song you haven't heard since middle school. You will not remember if you washed your hair when you're in the shower. You will not remember where you put your phone, your keys, your coat. Your brain cells do not return. Your kids will look flawless as you go in public. You will look like you have been dragged behind a cart full of donkeys. You will take "dragging ass" to a whole new level of hideous. Did I mention the brain cells don't return?
You will kill with flourish anything that may threaten your child. This includes venomous animals, things that sting and creepy crawly things. You will get overzealous and also knock off things like ladybugs and dryer lint - just in case they're rabid because they're eyeballing your baby.
All strangers will suddenly become potential predators. Any unknown person - ESPECIALLY near a park or a mall - is there to steal your child right out from under your nose. You will try to teach your children about "Stranger Danger" which will inevitably turn into a conversation about when it is appropriate to karate chop people or bite them or call them bad names like "Poop-a-saurus Rex" and "Stinky Bunners". At the end of every conversation about your children avoiding potential dangerous situations, you will wonder if they are actually looking forward to them so they can try out some high flying kicks and bad words with permission instead of running away and getting help.
You can never again watch a movie in which a child dies, gets kidnapped, gets terminally ill or is abducted by aliens. You will cry unabashedly for days because you will imagine the character is your child. This also goes for news stories involving children. But, the probability of you seeing these types of things is slight, as they generally do not break into the Mickey Mouse Clubhouse to announce headlining stories on MSNBC.
You will have no idea what is going on with the political world. Televised debates between candidates will go unwatched because A: You have no idea they are on. B: They can't hold a candle to the debate you are watching between your children over who is the smartest in the house which inevitably ends in jiu jitsu. C: They blab about things that you know are important and you should care about - but you just don't have the energy to think about. Nor the time to feel guilty about not caring about. However, if they discussed a fool proof way to eradicate whining from your house - they'd have far greater viewers. People would DVR it. Mom groups would start chanting their names while holding up the flashlight app on their iPhone. High on the euphoria of a whine-free house many would even tattoo candidates faces on to their stretch marks. (Nice stomach tattoo! When did Mitt Romney grow whiskers?) You will however, know how ginormous Jessica Simpson got while pregnant (and freakin' good for her btw) and the fact that Snookie having a baby coincides with the Mayan prophesy of the apocalypse. You know, the important stuff.
You will have conversations that you cannot believe. "No, don't drink the bath water. Because it is dirty and you have your bunners in it." "No, don't drink the pool water. Because it has chemicals, sunblock and pee-pee in it." "No thank you. I do not need your help wiping my butt." We shouldn't eat things off the floor. Because it is yucky. Yes, even if it looks clean. Yes, even if you lick it off first." "No, you shouldn't just go up to a stranger and kick them just because they are eating lunch outside on a bench across from the playground."
Potty humor reigns on high. And everything can be turned into potty humor. "Girls, do you want more noodles?" "Does it come with extra toilet?" "Me want extwa macawoni poo-poo." Bahahahahahahahahaha! No child is immune to the stand up humor hilarity surrounding the potty.
You will mourn the end of naps like you have lost a member of the family. Perhaps more.
Whenever you are doing something your kids will want you to stop it immediately to tend to something they have deemed as critical. "Mommy! You need to untangle this necklace right this second because I love it and need to wear it IMMEDIATELY. Yes, I see that you're up to your elbows in raw chicken. But I need this necklace now because I haven't worn it since I was two and need to catch up for lost time."
You will share intimate details with complete strangers about child birth. You will commiserate with horrifying children stories in awesome displays of motherhood camraderie. You will shout out the names of your pediatrician, obstetrician, esthetician to everyone who will listen. You will not, however, share the name of your amazing babysitter. Ever. Even with your BFF. Just in case she decides that she likes the other family better and then you're stuck at home for date night while your friends who stole your babysitter go out and laugh until they stop while you cry into your Capri Sun juice box watching a Bubble Guppies marathon.
At the end of the day you will be so happy to be blessed with tiny people that make you laugh, cry, scream, and a dichotomy of emotions you didn't even know existed. You will count the seconds until you can have a few moments to yourself - and you will think about them the entire time you are gone. They will destroy your clothes, furniture, make up and anything shiny or sort of interesting that you have in your possession. And they will fill your heart with so much love that you think it may burst. Until you walk into your bedroom and notice that they have used your one splurge you have had on yourself in years - a coveted Creme de la Mer that you hid in the top back corner of your closet - to finger paint a mural on your wall. And, then you want to pull out the three remaining hairs on your head and scream obscenities at the top of your lungs. But, that may bring a visit from social services. So instead you hear the words your mother use to scream at you coming out of your mouth. "You kids ruin all my nice things!" And then you know it's all over. The good news is since your brain cells are gone you won't remember it in a little while anyway.
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