Wednesday, January 14, 2009

10 Ways to Tell You are the Parent of a Young Child

I saw this on another website, and it made me laugh so hard.

10 ways to tell you are the parent of a young child.

1. You’ve had intense, soul-searching discussions about your child’s bowel movements.

2. Everyone Poops, in your mind, is truly a classical piece of literature, deserving to be spoken in the same breath as On the Road, and Gravity's Rainbow.

3.While cleaning out your car, you retrieve enough cheerios to have host a large breakfast for struggling families on your street

4. You wonder if the cheerio dust left after cleaning your car can be used as a substitute for bread flour.

5.You find yourself randomly chanting “meeska-mooska, micky mouse!” and being disappointed when nothing magical happens

6. Spousal arousal standards fall. Exponentially. Wearing jeans and a shirt instead of frumpy clothes? OH LORD.HOT! HOT!

7. Ketchup becomes the savior of dinnertime. Kid won’t eat vegetables? Dip them in ketchup. Meat looks weird? Ketchup, ho! You ponder creating a religion dedicated to praising ketchup (My lord of pureed, sugared tomato goop. Heinz be thy name. Thy bottle pour; your contents cover, the dinner plate and my shirt).

8. The iPod finally fetches a good song so you crank your car radio to 11 and rock the fuck out. Queer looks from bystanders remind you that not everyone thinks The Imagination Movers are hardcore.

9. You begin to feel that childless people who take it upon themselves to dispense child rearing advice need to be tied up and locked in a room filled with sick and/or colicky kids.

10. You’ve been peed on, pooped on, barfed on, spat on, snotted on, coughed on, bled on, sneezed on, bit, scratched, kicked, punched, slapped, hit, had various food objects thrown or dropped on you, been spilled on, you’ve stubbed your toe, bit your tongue, changed everyone’s clothes multiple times, cleaned the same fucking spot several times over and the stain is still there, and it’s not even noon yet.…

...and you wouldn’t change a thing.

(P.S. I love the Imagination Movers! Just a little mommy crush I guess. Hey at least it ain't The Wiggles!)


Beth said...

Rock on, Imagination Movers! I love the guy with the long hair; is he Scott?

This is so true. Sometimes it's hard to remember life before kids, huh? And really, who cares? THIS is the important stuff of life! Ya know, ketchup and poop.

IrishPatty said...

OMG, Things never change. Instead of the Imagination Movers it was the "Me & My Llama" song from Street. You used to yell Street, Street! which meant you wanted to watch Sesame Street. You would rock out to "Letter B" instead of Let it Be or the Llama going to the Dentist Wooee, Yes it's Just My Llama & Me. It then changed to U2 and poof you were all grown. My mother would watch Mr. Roger's Neighborhood by herself years after you grew up.
Wait until the three monkeys are grown, you will find yourself putting on Cars or The Good Night Show and yes, you will find cherios between the sofa cushions years later. Do you think Cherios are like cochroaches? I would not be surprised if they survive a nuclear winter as well. LOL

Beth said...

This inspired the contest I just posted on my blog. Go enter! :)