(1) I would never need an alarm clock again. Sunday morning, my two-year old woke up at 6:15am. Now, remember I worked as a corporate lawyer for years and I don't remember even waking up this early in those days, except to catch a flight. I think the last time I set an alarm was....um.... before kids??
(2) I would become an expert negotiator. It goes something like this: "How about we color with the crayons after your have put your clothes back on and stop hiding under the dining table?"
(3) I would become a really good liar. I think I told this one today: "<insert name> called me today to find out why you didn't eat your yoghurt. Yes, good girl. I will ring <insert name> and tell them you ate your yoghurt". Today, I used her hand surgeon's name. I secretly hope she doesn't randomly announce to him that she ate her yoghurt at her appointment tomorrow morning...
(4) I would have my hand in so much poop. Literally. The most distant and recent example of this was a couple weeks ago.
Usually when one of my girls have done a diaper blowout, I stand them up in the big laundry sink and use the extendable faucet to wash them down nicely. Of course, before I do that, I have to carefully peal away the diaper and quickly (with one hand) discard it into a plastic bag I store under the laundry sink. Well, first time this ever happened - I was in the process of peeling the diaper off and I lost control of it and it just opened out... plop...plop....plop. My one hand was gripping my Mini-V, the other was now holding an open, half empty poopy diaper and I am staring at what has plopped into the sink. These were my thoughts: "What just happened??...I wish I had gloves... I wish I had another bag... If I blink, maybe we can go back in time... omg I have to use my hand and pick that sh*t up. Literally". And I did.
No amount of anti-bacterial soap will erase that disgusting memory. This is where I remind myself I have two degrees plus a Masters and yet I find myself handling poop all day. So gross. Pregnancy should come with a poop warning.
(5) Children think it's absolutely normal to spit out into your hand whatever it is they have chewed and decided they don't want to swallow. The worst part is they do it in public too. Oh, and if your hand is not freely available, be warned that they will just spit it out on you, the floor, really anywhere. Today, my daughter decided to not finish her pasta and so she just spat it out on my kitchen floor. And then they will use your pants leg to wipe their dirty hands and mouths afterwards.
(6) The diaper bag is now my handbag. I never actually realized when I was pregnant that it would be a long time before I would be reunited with my handbag. I mean every now and then when I am out without the kids of course I leave the diaper bag at home and take a purse but I had no clue before kids that essentially the diaper bag would be all I would carry! I was never a real purse-kinda-gal anyway but I do miss carry around items beyond my "bare essentials" of wallet/lip gloss/keys/gum. I also sorta miss carrying around junk I don't need... toothpicks, restaurant candies I know will never make it to my stomach because of the bag lint attached to it, sachets of sugar, random bobby pins, random receipts shoved in my bag that should be thrown out...
(7) You never get to eat. Parents of 2+ kids, you know what I am talking about. You and your partner tag team eating at restaurants: "honey, you eat first and I will feed the kids and then we can swap"... then you inhale your food the first instance you get because you don't quite know if you will get another five minutes uninterrupted to eat for a while. Sometimes I am so hungry and honestly, I don't get that five minutes just to get even a cracker to tide me over... between the "carry me Mommy!!!!" (whimpering ensues if you attempt to put them down) and then the constant diapering, feeding, crying... I think back to the good old days of one child. Man, those days were good! When she was down for a nap, I had all that time to myself. Now I am just holding out for when I can ship them off the school. Maybe then I will eat.(8) Going to the toilet becomes a spectator sport. Not only does my toddler barrage me with a ton of questions about what I am about to do, but then she wants to be there, watch and get a running commentary during the main event. This is how it goes: "Mommy, you go wee-wee? I'm coming too... Is it big wee-wee? Maybe poo-poo? Did you fart? Was it big poo-poo? Will you wipe now? Can I see it? Can I flush it?". Honestly, you would think I had just given birth to something memorable.
Sometimes I try to trick my toddler just so I can use the toilet alone in peace for once: "Mommy is going to...um... check something...." (quick exit) but this usually follows with tears and the pained wailing of "Moooooommy!! Where are yooooou? Come baaaaaack!" - not worth it, I think having a spectator and answering questions is slightly more tolerable than trying to back one out whilst listening to your child cry and scream for you like they are in pain.
I really miss the days of being able to go to the toilet in peace. Sadly, the few occasional moments I do have the chance to go alone, I tend to drag it out like it is some sort of vacation. I take my phone, have a game all ready to play, or sometimes I keep a nice new catalog waiting for me and then I take my time and sit there for several minutes, just enjoying the solitude. It's really quite pathetic.
(9) It becomes normal to refer to yourself in the third person. I honestly can't remember the last time I used "I" in a sentence with my children. It's always Mommy this or Mommy that. It's so bizarre when you actually think about it. I mean, I know that they know that I am Mommy, so why do we do it?
(10) That just my touch, hug and kiss, has the power to stop tears and make a crying child happy again. Now, that is a gift, maybe even a superpower!
