What Babies Are Not

I know a few people that are always going on about wanting children, how they’re going to have a baby in a year when things “settle down”, how they think they’d make great parents, how they’re going to do everything right when they have a little one of their own. And in nearly every single fucking instance, I think to myself, “You are the exact type of person who should not have a baby right now.”

And it’s because they really have no concept of what a baby is. What it means to have a child. They do not comprehend that once you decide to have a kid, the life you have led for however many years is gone. You have a new life now. In many ways, it will be better, and in more ways it will be harder, and that is due in no small part to the fact that parenting is one of the few things in life that you pretty much have to completely fucking improvise. There is no manual, no two week training period, no documentary. You just kinda have to, you know, do it, and hope like hell no one dies.

So. For those of you who think you can like, omigosh, so totally handle having a kid cuz maybe you’ve babysat a few times and your nieces and nephews seem to like you – read on. This is for you.

1. A baby is not a doll. You’re having a human, not a Barbie. And if you knew shit about kids, you’d know that the last thing you need is a plethora of cutesy little goddamn outfits, since a baby will just shit and puke all over them, then promptly get too big to wear any of it.

2. A baby is not a relationship Band-aid. Your marriage/partnership will not improve by bringing a human life in to the mix. My guess is it’s probably going to get worse because babies are stressful and exhausting. If your relationship is on the rocks, work that shit out before you drag an innocent child in to it.

3. A baby is not proof of your maturity. If you think it is, you’re not mature enough to have a baby.

4. A baby is not fun. Yeah, there are parts of parenthood that are fun. But in those early, formative months, it’s a lot of craziness, trial and error, questions, stress, confusion, worry, and sleepless nights. You aren’t going to have fun for a while, champ.

5. A baby is not temporary. Your life is changed now. You can’t just dump the kid off with someone and go about your pre-kid existence. You can’t party every weekend. You can’t party in the middle of the week. You don’t get to sleep 12 hours a day anymore. Your shitty minimum wage job will no longer cut it. Your child deserves all of you, they require the absolute best that you have to give.

6. A baby is not a dog. I shouldn’t even have to fucking say this. I don’t care how much you love your dog. I don’t care that your dog has pet insurance and is doted on and worshipped. I don’t care that you think dog owners have it harder because they don’t qualify for government assistance (yeah, I’ve actually heard these words come out of someone’s mouth). YOUR DOG IS NOT A FUCKING HUMAN BEING. PERIOD. IT IS NOT THE SAME. 

To help put this in perspective: Let’s say your apartment building is on fire. A baby is trapped inside. So is your dog. Now let’s say your best friend comes along. When given the choice between rescuing YOUR DOG and a STRANGER’S BABY most people are going to pick the baby. Yes, the fact that you take such good care of your pet is a good indicator that you’ll be good with a child. But if you think caring for a dog and caring for a baby are basically the same thing, you’re a fucking idiot.

7. A baby is not leverage. Pregnancy is not how you keep a man in a relationship. A child is not a pawn for use in your divorce/break up. If you think a child is a good way to manipulate people, you are a shitty person.

8. A baby will not grow up to be your best friend. It’s your child, not your buddy. You did not give birth to a minime. You gave birth to a goddamn individual. If you are still operating under the assumption that you won’t be like your parents, that you’ll let them wear what they want and talk how they want and do what they want, you are delusional. My kids’ grandmother put it best: “if your teenager doesn’t hate you at some point, you’re not doing your job as a parent.”

9. A baby is not a trophy. You are going to fuck up this kid. No matter what you do, you will do something wrong. And chances are, your kid is still going to be okay. If you have this grand idea in your head that feeding a kid only organic food and never letting them watch TV and making sure every hard surface in their life is covered in foam, you are totally missing the point of being a parent. A baby is not something you parade around and show off so everyone knows what a stellar person you are. You aren’t perfect. Your kid won’t be either. And that’s okay.

 

Please breed responsibly.

How We’ll Spend Our Summer Vacation

It’s that time again! The kids are out of school! Time to entertain them every second of the next 90 goddamn days.

Here’s a list of fun summer activities you can engage in. No. Really. They’re fun. I swear.

Bring liquor.

 

Water Parks

Because I know nothing gets me out of bed quicker than the knowledge that I will spend the next eight hours in wet clothes traipsing around a concrete jungle of slides in the blistering heat making sure my kids don’t drown in the pee-tainted waters. Oh you’re hungry? Why yes, I’d love to buy you a $14 grilled cheese sandwich. Thirsty? Let me just take out a second mortgage on the house so I can buy you bottled water. A souvenir? Yes, because nothing says “I had a great time!” like a $50 stuffed dolphin the size of my fist.

 

barbecue“Talking to you makes me want to kill myself!”

Barbecues

You mean you want me to invite over a shit ton of people so they can eat my food, play in my yard, shit in my toilet, drink all my beer, awkwardly mingle with me, instruct me on the proper way to cook a burger, and in return I shall receive boatloads of store bought potato salad and extremely unappetizing dips? And I get to clean up by myself? Where the fuck do I sign up?

Fireworks

Nothing says summertime like sitting in itchy grass surrounded by bugs and drunks, waiting an hour and a half for 15 minutes of colorful explosions which my children will lose interest in after about ten minutes and then ask if they can play Fruit Ninja on my phone.

bro“Bro, do you even bro, bro?”

The Beach

Sometimes you wake up on a Saturday and think to yourself, “I really feel like it’s a good day to pack up half the linen closet and 2/3 of the refrigerator, load that shit in the trunk, get the kids in swimsuits, drive to a public swimming locale, pay $10 for parking, haul all that down to the shore, slather the kids in lotion, and send them on their way so you can witness the parade of thong sporting club girls navigating the sand in strappy gold heels and frat boys in plaid shorts and flip flops chugging beer and tossing their cans on the ground like assholes.

Amusement Parks

For those times that going to a water park, where you can at least cool off in a mixture of urine and chlorine, just doesn’t adequately fulfill our desire to be fucking miserable. For those times, locate your nearest overpriced, overrated, overcrowded land-o-fun, fork over half your salary for the month, and let the misery begin.

roadtrip“I’m going to smother each and every one of you.”

Road Trips

Is there some place you’ve always wanted to visit but you feel that getting there quickly and comfortably is for sissy bitches? Why not cram the fam in to the car, fill every available space with luggage and snacks, and spend the next week slowly learning to hate all of the people you live with?

 

Truths I’ve Told My Children

1. Why did Aunt Cassy marry a girl and a not a boy?

Because girls can love girls, and boys can love boys, and if you love someone and wanna marry them then that’s what you do.

2. There’s a girl in my class whose face looks different. How come?

Some kids are born different. All kids are born special. Treat her just like you would anyone else – that’s all she really wants anyway.

3. Why are your boobs so much bigger than mine?

Because Mommy uses her boobs to feed babies and to fill out V-neck sweaters.

4. How come our puppy had to die?

Things don’t die, they just become a different kind of energy. You can’t see it, but everything will eventually float back up to the stars so the universe can decide what they’ll become next. There are no endings – only infinite beginnings.

5. Do I have to grow up?

On the outside, yes. On the inside? That’s up to you.

6. Can I just live with you and daddy forever?

Let me put it this way: when you graduate high school, your graduation gift will be luggage and moving boxes.

 

Also, check out https://drivingmisty.wordpress.com/2014/05/22/lies-ive-told-my-children/

Lies I’ve Told My Children

1. Eat your vegetables.
I was watching a show on TV where they changed the voice of a person they were interviewing. Guin came into the room and asked why his voice sounded like that.
Kyle replied, “That’s what happens when you don’t eat your vegetables.”

2. Where do babies come from?
I managed to incorporate my own beliefs by telling them that all babies start as a star. Then they pick a mommy, turn into a shooting star, and fly into the mommy’s tummy while she’s sleeping.

3. What happened to my pet fish?
We accidentally bought the wrong fish at the store. We got a Seussfish, and those kinds of fish sometimes
grow wings, then fly out of the bowl and back to the ocean.

4. Did you drink my chocolate milk?
“No.”
“Did too.”
“I did not.”
“You still have milk on your face, Mommy.”

5. Why can’t I sleep during the day and stay awake at night?
Because you’ll turn into a vampire.

6. (While stalling at bedtime) Daddy, what’s your favorite dinosaur?
A gotosleepasaurus.

Out With the New, In With the Old

While there are countless reasons that I am lucky to be a mother of twins – or maybe they are perfectly countable but I just don’t wish to count that high – there is one reason in particular that has spared me a huge amount of stress and kept me from crying in a dark closet drinking wine out of a sippy cup as Kyle bangs on the door and yells at me to come out. I’m usually outta that closet way before he even notices I’m gone, usually with a pretty good buzz.

Just like so many other expecting couples, we were determined to be the best possible parents we could be. When we learned that there were two of them, were we terrified? Fuck yeah! Were we still going to rock the shit out of child-rearing? You bet your sweet ass! Bring it on, babies! We’re about to parent the shit outta you. Times two!

Except we were both in our early twenties and the pregnancy was completely unplanned. We had just gotten accustomed to the idea that we were going to have one baby – what the fuck were we supposed to do with two?

We learned, and quickly, that you do the same thing with two babies as you do with one: you love the hell out of him and hope to hell you don’t fuck him up too much.

As for the rest?

DiaperGenies, a baby wipe warmer, an $800 Eddie Bauer stroller that absorbs any type of shock and can deflect UV rays and cruise missiles…these are great to receive at a baby shower but are otherwise unnecessary. If you can’t afford it, you don’t need it. And if you think you can afford it, you’re either wealthy or delusional. Whichever it is, you should put that money in a goddamn college fund instead.

Your infant does not need clothes from the Gap. He is shitting in them. Like, right now, he is probably just taking a big old stinky shit all up in those ridiculous khaki cargo shorts. And since you dropped so much cash making sure your kid looks like a miniaturized douchebag, you probably had to buy the cheap-ass diapers made from wax paper wound around recycled tampons and held together by Scotch tape – which means there is poop oozing onto his $35 onesie. Idiot.

The kid is going to hurt himself. There is literally nothing you can do about it unless you’re going to wrap him up in bubble paper, and I’m pretty sure that’s child abuse. There’s no need for everything in your house to be made of soft rubber or for you to put a helmet on him while he’s in the tub. The fuck is wrong with you?

For some parents, it usually takes either a couple years or a second kid for them to finally say, “FUCK IT! WHY ARE WE DOING THIS TO OURSELVES?!”

But hey, New Mom and Dad, if you really think your way is so much better, here’s an idea of what most of you sound like now and what you’ll probably sound like once you get some sense about you.

NEW PARENT: Ooo look at this toy! It reads stories and sings the alphabet and teaches them colors!

PRO PARENT: The next person to buy my kid a toy that makes noise is getting punched right in the fucking face.

 

NEW PARENT: Where’s that other pink sock with the ruffles? No, not that one, that one has duckies on it. Do you have the purple polka dotted socks? Wait, these aren’t polka-dots, these are Easter eggs. Of course it matters; I can’t have everyone at the gas station thinking she’s a hobo!

PRO PARENT: Here are your socks. Matching is not a concern because ALL of your socks are white, and if they are not of the same style, cut, length, or size, I genuinely don’t give a shit because most people have better things to do than scrutinize the socks of a child grocery shopping with their mother. As for the ones that don’t have anything better to do, they can fuck off and die.

 

NEW PARENT: She just does not want to nap today! Okay, first let’s try her little vibrating chair, then the rocking chair, then walking around with her and patting her back, and if none of that works, usually driving around the block a couple times in her carseat does the trick, but she always wakes up when we try to move her back to her crib!

OLD PARENT: Hey, you know what always works? Driving her around the block a few times. What do you mean how are we gonna move her once we get home? We’re gonna bring her inside in the carseat and fucking leave her in the carseat. The fuck would we move her for?

 

NEW PARENT: Just be careful feeding her. I’ve already had to change her cute little outfit three times today! Who knew something so small could make such a big mess?

PRO PARENT: What’s that? You spilled an entire jar of mashed beets on her shirt? Luckily I have baby wipes strategically placed all over the house, such as in the cabinet behind you. You wipe that up while I grab one of the 50 thrift store onesies I bought specifically to feed her and keep separate from the brand new onesies, which she wears when the risk of getting dirty has decreased significantly. Oh, the 9 month onesies are a bit small now? That’s okay; I bought all of her clothing up to age two and diapers up to 18 months. We’re good.

 

NEW PARENT: K, so, this box is for bath toys, this one is for pool toys. Then we have a box for stuffed animals and one for stuffed dolls, okay, that’s really important so we can teach him the difference between animals and people. Now, all of the animal toys are further sub-categorized by species, and then the people are separated in to groups of kids and adults. Then we have the craft box, the rainy day box, the every other Tuesday box…

PRO PARENT: Here is a box. Put your shit in it. If you appear to be accumulating too much shit or are not taking good care of your shit, I will get rid of your shit. Because technically, since I bought it, it is not your shit, it is my shit, and I’m being nice enough to loan it to you.

 

NEW PARENT: Of course we don’t let him watch television! I learned Spanish just so I can teach him the same things Dora does because it is solely my responsibility to teach my child. Besides, prolonged exposure to television could lead to seizures and pregnancy and drug use and a poor credit rating!

PRO PARENT: Okay kid, you have literally run  me ragged since 8AM. Mama needs a break. You can either take a nap or watch Bubble Guppies – it makes no difference to me, as long as you’re quiet for half an hour, comprende?

 

NEW PARENT: Did you just let her try that cake batter? THERE ARE RAW EGGS IN THERE; SHE COULD DIE! Or what if she’s allergic to chocolate? And oh my God, chocolate?! Why didn’t you just stick a funnel down her throat and pour in some bacon grease and cotton candy? Now I have to call her pediatrician so I can make sure she doesn’t get fat, develop hives, or die.

PRO PARENT: Here’s a beater for you, and one for you. So help me God, child, if you lay so much as a finger on this mixing bowl of chocolatey deliciousness, you will need a surgical team to remove my foot from your ass.

 

NEW PARENT: Oh my gosh, the ladies on this parenting forum are so sweet and so helpful!

PRO PARENT: Yup. One year later and you’re all still a bunch of backbiting bitches. I knew retrieving my password was a waste of time.

 

NEW PARENT: I know I should be using his naptime to take a nap of my own, but this house is such a mess! If I don’t clean it now, I’ll never get it done!

PRO PARENT: Take five minutes to tidy up quickly before I take my own nap, or spend the entirety of his naptime exhausting myself even further by cleaning a house I will just have to clean again after he’s been awake for an hour? Wait, am I actually asking myself this question? I just wasted 45 seconds of perfectly good nap time! Go, woman, go!

 

NEW PARENT: We need to find more friends that have kids, too. We can have playdates, and other parents are so much more understanding! And I just love all kids so much!

PRO PARENT: That’s the third goddamn birthday party I’ve been to this week. Who’s fucking kid was that anyway? What a little asshole. Do we even know them? You know what, I don’t care. My mom’s watching the kids tonight so I’m gonna call my slutty, single friend from college and you can be damn sure the only juice I drink tonight will have vodka in it.

 

NEW PARENT: Sweetheart, please, I’m begging you, just put on the dress for mommy, we’re running so late and I just want you to look cute. Yes, yes, I know you want to wear your Halloween costume, but it’s from last year so it’ll be too short, and then you’ll have to wear something underneath and that would look silly. Honey, please.

PRO PARENT: Why yes, I did notice that she’s wearing a ballerina tutu and a pajama shirt underneath her dress and yes, those are indeed two binder clips holding her hair back – she even decorated them with My Little Pony stickers. But, you know, since this is a goddamned playground at a city park instead and not a black tie affair at the Waldorf, I didn’t think there’d be a dress code. By the way, if that horrible smell is associated with the crying child running toward you as he yells mommy, then I’m pretty sure he just crapped in his tiny little designer jeans. I’ll just leave you to it.

 

NEW PARENT: Here’s the diaper bag checklist; make sure you go through it twice so we know we haven’t forgotten anything. Yes, I know it’s three pages long but she’s going to be at the babysitter’s for two hours, who knows what she might need? That’s why we have two diaper bags, silly!

PRO PARENT: K, this Wal-mart bag has clothes, this one has toys, and this one he packed himself so who the hell knows what’s in it. I’m sure I forgot something that will prove to be of vital importance at some point in the next 24-hours, so here’s fifty bucks. You can use it to replace whatever it is, or to bribe him. Dealer’s choice.

 

NEW PARENT: We got these pictures taken the day she smiled for the very first time, and this one here we had done on her six month birthday, and next to that we just thought it’d be fun if we all dressed up like rubber duckies and had our pictures done. Then these are the ones they took at the hospital the day she was born, here’s her first day of preschool; you wouldn’t believe how hard it was to find a photographer who’d come out at 6AM…

PRO PARENT: Of course I have pictures of her. They’re on my phone. Oh, that? No, that’s not a picture of my daughter, that came with the frame. Eventually we’ll put a picture of her in it, we’re just waiting for a school picture that doesn’t make her look like she’s got a mullet and a lazy eye.

 

NEW PARENT: This is going to be such a great date night! Dinner and a movie and a walk by the river under the moonlight. I’m just going to miss my baby sooo much! I almost feel guilty, having all this fun without him!

PRO PARENT:  All right, your mom just pulled out of the driveway. We’ve got two hours to nap, have sex, or both. Hey! Hey, are you already asleep? Oh thank god, cuz I’ve really only got enough in me for a nap.

 

NEW PARENT: Here you go: heart shaped pancakes, strawberry flowers with fresh whipped cream, and look – I cut up your egg so it looks like a sunshine with a happy face I made out of grated cheese! I’ve been up since five!

PRO PARENT: Cereal. Just be glad I remembered milk.

 

NEW PARENT: No, honey, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to try salsa. It’s spicy and you’re only four and you could get an upset tummy or develop acid reflux.

PRO PARENT: You wanna try salsa? All right. Here’s a tiny bit on a chip and here’s a glass of water. This should be hilarious.

 

NEW PARENT: Awww, look at that, you got a gold ribbon for getting a C in math! Let’s put that on your shelf of participation trophies you got from t-ball.

PRO PARENT: You know what the team who loses the Super Bowl gets? Nothing. You know what a kid in this house gets for being average? Apparently, he gets a goddamned gold ribbon from his school. He also gets to spend an hour a day after his homework is done going over flashcards with his mommy until I’m convinced he’s trying as hard as he can and not as hard as he’s required to.

 

NEW PARENT: Don’t run so fast on the gravel honey, you could fall! And only go down the short slide, okay? No, no, no monkey bars! Don’t jump up on that! Don’t jump off of it either! Sweetie, if you keep running in a circle you’re going to get dizzy and fall down! Oh my gosh, okay, honey, instead of playing outside on this beautiful spring day with other children, why don’t we go to the library and listen to a frizzy-haired hippie named Moonbeam play a guitar as she reads Clifford the Big Red Dog?

PRO PARENT: Yes. Yes, that’s it children. Run. Run aaaall that energy out of you, for tonight, I shall make bedtime my bitch.

 

NEW PARENT: Okay sweetie, we’re going in the store now and if you promise to be super good for me, I’ll let you pick out a brand new toy which you will love for no more than 24 hours before tossing it aside so you can bang on my tupperware with your shoe. And if you don’t behave, I’ll scold you in a calm voice which you will not be able to hear over the sound of your tantrum, but at least I will reduce the chance of being harshly judged by strangers who are of no importance to me.

OLD PARENT: We are not here for you, we are here for me. Do not ask me for shit. You will behave because I raised you to be a civilized human being, and if you choose not to behave, be advised that I will not hesitate for a moment to discipline you as I see fit in front of perfect strangers, and that the only person who will walk away from the situation feeling embarrassed will be you.

 

NEW PARENT: So Tuesday after work I have that PTA meeting and then I have to come right home to make cupcakes for a classmate’s birthday on Wednesday. Oh, and on Thursday I have to go up and talk to his teacher about that detention he got; it’s just so unlike him to act up at all so I’d like to hear directly from her what happened, plus I already try to touch base with her at least once a week. And pretty much all of Saturday I’ll be setting up the fundraiser for the zoo field trip, which I signed up to chaperone. Gotta run, my turn to carpool for soccer!

PRO PARENT: Dear Teacher,

I don’t know what possessed my kid to volunteer me to bake cupcakes for 30 frickin’ people by tomorrow, but that is clearly not going to happen. I’m sure this bag of Twizzlers will be an adequate substitute.If it isn’t, it looks like a certain lucky teacher just scored some free Twizzlers.

Enclosed is a check for $50 for the zoo trip; I realize the cost is only $20, but I’m hoping the additional $30 will be enough to get your events coordinator to stop asking me to join the FUNky FUNraising Committee, a name that is almost as stupid as the question “Would you like to wander around a smelly zoo for 6 hours making sure that children you aren’t legally responsible for aren’t eaten by a tiger?” She knows it’s spelled funDraising, right?

Also, I understand that during yesterday’s recess my son sat on a little girl’s face then farted in her mouth and was given detention. Upon receiving notice of that detention, his father and I agreed he should be punished at home as well. My husband made sure to ingest large amounts of frozen burritos and boiled eggs that evening and, under the pretense of tucking my son in to bed, I instead pinned his body from the neck down beneath the covers while his father released the most noxious gas I have ever smelled mere inches from our son’s face. Although I can’t be sure if the tears in my son’s eyes were a direct cause of the smell, his embarrassment over being punished, or a combination of both, I feel confident that he has learned his lesson.

In the unlikely event that my child should do such a thing again, please advise the little girl that tickling his underarms will not only paralyze him with laughter and enable her to get free, but that laughter will probably be higher and more girlish than her own.

In conclusion, the only time I am okay with having my car full of people who won’t stop screaming or annoying me is when those people are totally trashed and their lives depend on it. Otherwise, I must respectfully say ‘fuuuuck that.’

***NOTE*** If you are in fact a seasoned parent and stumble across something that you still do which I have categorized as the behavior of a new parent, just laugh it off rather than get offended and be proud of yourself for being able to keep a toy box organized for that long, or to juggle your work and personal life while being super involved in your kid’s school, or still having the patience to keep track of a hundred cute little outfits as well as the skill to get your kid to wear them. When it comes time to pick our battles, we all have a different perspective when it comes to saying which ones are hard and which ones are easy. The point, really, is that when we start out as parents we make EVERY battle hard, even when it doesn’t have to be. Some of them get easier as we gain the experience, and some of them go away entirely because we choose to save our energy to fight the ones that matter. In the end, none of us will be perfect parents…but as long as our children think we’re the BEST parents, then who really gives a shit about perfect?

The Most Epic Parenting Win

Every once in a while, when my natural inclination toward cynicism and general snarkiness begins to dominate my overall view of the world, I must force myself to remember that not all people are vapid douchebags in dire need of a hearty shin-kick.

To do this, I would simply call to mind my friends, my family, and the things that I liked. But I witnessed a scene a few years ago, when my soon-to-be preschoolers were still chubby, drooling, adorable poop machines, a scene so incredibly wonderful that replaying it in my head is all I need to hit the reset button on my shitty perspective.

It was at a Target. As I entered, a child with Down’s Syndrome was standing in line with his parents as they loaded their bags in to the cart. To my left was a woman, very clearly upper class, pretty, well-dressed, perfect hair and makeup – the type one would be likely to label as a snob. She had her own child with her, a girl of perhaps three or four, an age where it is common to point and to ask blunt questions out of sheer curiosity rather than meanness.

The girl pointed at the boy with Down’s Syndrome and said, “Mommy, what’s the matter with that boy?”

The mother glanced over to where her daughter was pointing, and I full expected her to get embarrassed, or ignore the question, or scold the little girl.

Instead, she turned back around, smiled at her daughter, and placed a hand under her chin so that she was looking her mother directly in the eye. Then, in a voice that was both kind and firm, she gave her the only answer that should ever be given.

“Nothing, baby. Absolutely nothing.”

That woman, in that moment, was precisely the type of parent we should all strive to be. If we all spent less time explaining WHY people are different and HOW people are different, it is far more likely our children will see people as people, and that whatever it is that is different about them…will make no difference at all.

Determining if You Have Small Children: A Handy Checklist

Because sometimes, we can’t be sure if we produced offspring, or if it’s all just been a weird, fucked up dream.

1. Have you ever shared your bed with a person who is small in stature, is difficult to understand, and is NOT an Italian from New Jersey?

1b. If you answered YES to Question 1, did you roll over in the middle of the night and find yourself in a puddle of urine that was not your own?

2. Have you ever inexplicably found any of the following in your purse/pockets/briefcase: a Happy Meal toy, a partially eaten peanut butter and jelly sandwich, any small item you thought you had lost several months ago, a pair of tiny underpants featuring cartoon characters, boogers you are certain did not come from you, or a crayon drawing?

2b. If you have found a pair of tiny underpants, did you instinctively sniff them to determine if they smelled like pee before deciding what to do with them?

2c. If you have found a crayon drawing, did you instinctively hang it on the refrigerator or at your desk at work even if you didn’t know what the fuck it was supposed to be a picture of?

3. When you use the bathroom at home, do you find that although you are overcome with joy at the chance to experience consecutive seconds of silence you are simultaneously on edge because you anticipate that the door will be unceremoniously thrown open at any moment?

4. When someone begins a sentence with the word “why”, do you reflexively cringe?

5. Have you ever used any of the following words in your every day conversation with adults: potty, tushy, blankie, binkie, pee-pee, or poopie?

6. If you are a woman: did you have unprotected sex with a male at one time, and later find yourself getting fatter and crankier over the course of the next nine months?

6b. If you are a man: did you have unprotected sex with a female at one time, and later find yourself quaking with fear in the presence of that same female, who has become a larger, crankier version of herself?

7. Is your house regularly occupied by one or more small, loud creatures who, despite their tendency to move and speak drunkenly and their inability to comprehend time or basic instructions, are deceptively manipulative and cunning?

8. Do you routinely find stains on your clothing caused by food you have not personally ingested?

9. When you see someone with a smudge of dirt or food on their face, are you compelled to lick your thumb and wipe it off?

9b. Are you fairly certain that your spit could be bottled and used as an effective household cleaner?

10. Do you regularly watch Nickelodeon or Nick Jr. for your own personal entertainment? (Nick-at-Nite doesn’t count.)

10b. If you answered YES to Question 10, please put the bong down, turn off Spongebob, and ask yourself what the fuck you’re doing with your life. If you answered NO, please proceed to 10c.

10c. Can you name 10 or more shows currently airing on Nickelodeon?

10d. Can you recite most of the morning lineup for Nick Jr.?

11. When your house is completely silent, is your default reaction to become suspicious?

12. In the last week, has there been a day in which ALL of the following happened and you were NOT on vacation: you woke up after eight hours of uninterrupted sleep, ate all three meals in an enjoyable way (i.e., sitting down), you were not late to anything, and none of your phone conversations were interrupted or required you to place a hand over your ear so as to hear the other person?

13. Do you currently own or display at least one handmade item or piece of art whose function or subject matter you cannot actually identify?

13b. If you celebrate any type of holiday, do you own any ornaments that you hang up each year due to a combination of sentimentality and the guilt you feel about

14. Over the past six years, has your tolerance for coming in to contact with vomit, urine, poo, boogers, snot, or spit increased exponentially?

15. When you refer to yourself in the third person, do you usually use the title Mommy or Daddy rather than your given name?

15b. If you answered YES to Question 15, when referring to yourself as Mommy/Daddy, are you doing so in a completely non-sexy way?