Right of Kangaroo Passage

Being a mom is not always awesome. I have actually saved this article in my favorites bar because sometimes I really need it. I really need to believe that I will survive this without punching the next childless person who gives me parenting advice or the next person who tells me I must love every moment of parenthood. I try to embrace my new, curvier body but still struggle with the kangaroo pouch that once housed an entirely manageable little person and now hangs loosely from my waist in despair over the tyrant it has unleashed on the world.

The Offspring: 50% Adorable Cuteness, 50% Merciless Tyrant

Mostly, though, I am caught off guard by how much I love being someone's super-hero/magician/personal comedian ("mom" in layman terms). The amount of joy you experience as a parent could probably be considered insanity. Every day I discover new sources of joy, and you should know that (in case you're worried about it) your life does not get boring or crappy when you become a parent. It's different- you watch new movies in the daytime, when it's easier to get a sitter, and alcohol (hopefully) loses any serious relevance in your social life, but you learn some interesting things. Here's the short-list of my most important discoveries:

1. I don't know crap.

This is a recent one, based on the discovery by The Offspring of the word "why". I really don't know. I try to give real answers, but sometimes I'm left with "Because Mommy said so".

Think about this for a second. Ten years ago I knew EVERYTHING. Hell, five years ago I was still pretty sure I would someday rule the world. Now I know I'm lucky if bath-time goes off without a hitch, and I have no idea "why" spicy things feel hot.

It's kind of liberating.

2. Every idea is better when presented in the Cookie Monster voice.

Self explanatory. Try it. Say "Time to trim the toenails!". Now say it like you're Cookie Monster.

You're more excited about routine hygiene now, and you know it.

3. Running is more fun when you're screaming.

Another one I don't know the "why" of, but I think it may have to do with giving your social inhibitions "the finger". Next time you go for a run, wave your arms around frantically and scream. Not only will you be inexplicably exhilarated, but any child nearby will be drawn to you, because you are obviously awesome. Be careful only to admire your trail of screaming followers though- parents might get weirded out if you turned around and started talking to your new-found minions. In fact, you may want to reserve this experiment for your favorite jogging trail, not your local park. This one is how I convince The Offspring that he really DOES want to get his booty out of the stroller and walk with me, and it has the added bonus of being a great time.

4. Every parent blogger is a liar.

Every parent has tough days. Every one of us yells sometimes, lets our kids watch TV because we're super tired, and makes the mistake of taking our kids out when they're just too tired and should be at home. Every parent blogger puffs their account up with stories of this or that cute thing that happened today, and makes lies of omission. These lies make parents who are scared and stressed and dealing with a challenging child, or a normal child in a challenging phase, feel really crappy for that stress. I learned this by asking other parents- my mom, my friends that I trust to be honest- about their difficult moments. Knowing I wasn't the only person who occasionally locks myself in the closet and cries while eating Teddy Grahams the second reinforcements arrive- whew. Huge relief.

Someday, your Offspring will sit at the bottom of a staircase screaming because they want to be carried and your arms are full of groceries. Just know you aren't the first person to be pissed off about it and you'll probably be okay. Put the groceries down, tell off those childless college brats who stopped to watch the spectacle, and carry your kid inside. No one will steal your groceries, and you'll be able to deal a little better once you're not apologizing for blocking the staircase. Learning this lesson is a right of Kangaroo Passage.

PS- I know I wrote this for future parents, but I also know lots of current parents may be ready to tear their hair out and not sure what to do about behavioral problems. Here's some reputable organizations with solid, research based resources. You can also go to your local state or country website for information on support or counseling. Be the super-hero your kid thinks you are.

Parenting.com
WebMD
The Center for Parenting Education
Parenting.org

Enough Egg McMuffins to Feed a Very Small Village

Image courtesy of mcdonalds.com

I have a problem.

Some people have a drinking problem. Some people have a problem with sweets. Some people have more serious problems, life threatening ones like heroin or Pinterest. I have an Egg McMuffin problem.

I try not to think about it, because sometimes thinking about it makes it worse. Just like when you are lying in bed at night, and just as you begin to feel drowsy you feel a tickle between your shoulder blades. You try to ignore it for a moment and then give in. Just one quick little scratch... Your hand creeps up, trying to sneak up on the itch. This is obviously impossible. You dig in, and the itch fights back. First, it runs deeper under your skin- so you scratch harder. Then it flits away to your shoulder, then down to the small of your back.

Before you know it you're looking up at the ceiling in agony as you squirm on your scratchy carpet, trying to eradicate the itch by magically scratching your entire back at once. This enterprise was doomed from the start.

This is what happens to me. I wake up in the morning wanting warm cheddar cheese on a muffin. With egg and ham. It shouldn't be good- I don't really like eggs at all outside of this context. I whisper my mantra: "I do not like eggs". I pour myself a bowl of cereal, thinking this will stop the itch. But it just digs in. My stomach rebels. It asked for protein, not breakfast cereal!

Before I know it, I am stopping on my way to work filled with the odd mixture of delightful anticipation and self-loathing.

I am not terrible. I usually only give in about twice a week. Then again, in the turn of one year, that IS one hundred and four muffins. Enough to feed a small village breakfast.

UPDATE: I had an Egg White McMuffin this morning. It is even better. I don't even feel bad.