After my years of parenting ‘in the trenches’, I in no way consider myself an expert; I honestly don’t even know if that is possible, but I do think of myself as a veteran with some knowledge from experience about certain key things that over time a parent learns absolutely NOT to do.
Don’t let baby put their finger in a light socket. Don’t let baby play with knives. Lock the front door so baby doesn’t wander into a busy street. Don’t leave baby in the bathtub alone. Don’t let baby play in the catbox, or eat dog food.
This is all COMMON SENSE shit, but sometimes you think “eh, it won’t happen to me” and you actually have to walk in on your kid shoving a crusted piece of cat shit in their mouths for it to really sink in.
For my kids, there is one thing I probably should have known, considering just how weird the boys are, that needs to be added to this list and perhaps the list of other parents around the world:
Do NOT leave baby alone with an open jar of peanut butter.
This is something that is so random, but it likely should have sunk in after the first time I walked away for a moment only to come back and find Parker with his entire face submerged in a tupperware of peanut butter (which foolishly, I had put it in so he had easier access to it).
Silly, silly me. I don’t know if the years have just worn on me, or if the forgetfulness really is coming with age… but I spaced on that little detail until today.
Like any normal mid-morning snack, we all sit together, Parker locked in a chair (because otherwise he wanders refusing to eat anything) eating cheerio “sandwiches”- which is just two cheerios with peanut butter in the center. Parker eats so little that I have to cry to cram fat in anywhere I can; what better way than with peanut butter??
I got up to use the restroom before the speech therapist arrived, and when I returned, there was Parker; peanut butter jar cast to the side, and his hands, shirt and face completely smeared in brown goo. He literally looked like a giant piece of poop with eyes.
HOW in the hell does a child manage to fuck up their entire world in under 60 seconds?
And of course, just as I went to get supplies to clean him up (a firehose maybe?), the doorbell rings.
Being that I am sick, I have lost use of most of my senses. I can’t hear out of my left ear, I can’t really smell or taste anything, i’m tired and i’m completely out of it… i’m just a big pile of DERP, floating through the day with my head in a booger filled sky.
Leave it to the therapist to walk in the door, sit down with Parker, and exclaim “oh my GOD all I can smell is peanut butter!”
Ok, so it’s not as bad as smelling shit, or smelling Parker when he is sweating like a grown man and his head wreaks of feet… but fuck, that’s embarrassing!
Walk into my house and get smacked in the face with the smell of nuts. Lovely.
From now on, you had better believe I will be the only one who is allowed to finger the jar of nut. I may not have learned the first time, but a little humiliation is enough to pound it into anyone’s head.
The “Are You Ready to Have Kids?” Checklist of Doom goo.gl/fb/DTPJ1A
If anyone asks how I died, you can just go ahead and tell them "she was lured in by free pie in exchange for listening to 2nd graders screech Thanksgiving songs for 30 minutes"
I'm not saying this is the perfect #Christmas gift for all the parents in your life, but.... okay, yeah I am. That's exactly what I'm saying. Truths from the bowels of parenthood! amazon.com/Kids-Are-Turds…
@Gofashiondeals All of that and more. Good times. Gooooood times