First Anniversary of "You Know You're a Parent When..." (#12)

Aloha,

Before this month’s “You Know You’re A Parent When…” post, I must apologize that I haven’t replied to many recent comments.

I am WIP-minus 37 from my deadline, completely failing in my blogging duties – and I ask for your patience. All unanswered comments are waiting in a file (thanks: no-hyperlink-needed Alex.)

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(Part One:) "PEEK A...

 This is the twelfth installment of my “YKW,” series, which means I’ve been promoting my, er, lack of parental skills for more than a year…

Here in the Blogisfear, it’s normal to celebrate a year of something (blog, followers, life,) but please for all that is holy and special… hold all congratulatory comments, because after a year (or more – No. 1 Son is five)…

Wouldn’t you think my wife and I would have nailed this parenting thing, right?

Apparently not.

Let’s dive in, (but not in the bath – apart from the obvious safety reasons, you need to check the water with your elbow first – oh, and try not to fall in… because now your center of balance is off, and you’re carrying a naked, twenty-pound baby held out at arm’s length in case he pees on you.

Again.



C'mon now, this is tasty stuff.

 

You can find the most recent YKW posts here and here. Everything happened, and it’s all based on my daily life as a happily married stay-at-home Dad J

 

 

 

 

 

You Know You’re a Parent When…

·         No. 3 Son is in the high-chair, and Mama says she’s “going to let him down” and the first thing that pops into your sleep-deprived head is to tell your wife that no, no, it’s OK, you’ll do it, so you get ready to shout: “Santa’s not real! Santa’s not real!”

·         While cooking in the kitchen (as opposed to the neighbor’s front yard – *shakes head*) you are asked to count to twenty (or “up to one,” depending on the age of the Son whose turn it is.)

And while the kids play hide-and-seek in the no-nooks-and-crannies of the open floor plan that is downstairs, you are reminded that, “but it’s OK, remember, we have our invisible green poncho,” which is when you remember it’s important to chill when making chili.)

     

·         A smile comes to your face and you say YES! when, in the middle of doing the dishes, Mama’s voice clearly echoes all the way downstairs and into the kitchen: “What? Why did you put Buttpaste on your toothbrush?”
Sometimes, dirty dishes can be a blessing…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 ·      Upset that a “decrusted” peanut butter sandwich still remains uneaten, the question is asked of No. 1 Son:

“What’s wrong with the sandwich?”

“It’s the wrong shape.”

INNER VOICE: The wrong shape, the wrong shape??? I’ve cut the edges off, so of course it’s not going to be a neat-looking shaped sandwich.

OUTER VOICE: “Oh.”

Can I have a square shaped sandwich?

INNER VOICE: What’s wrong with a rough-looking triangle-y shaped sandwich???

OUTER VOICE: “Square?”

“Square. Yes, please, Papa.”

After eating a non-wanted peanut butter (triangle-y shaped) sandwich, you drive to Bed, Bath and Beyond and invest in a train-shaped de-crustifying thing.

Later that week…

OUTER VOICE (filled with pride): So, how’s that train-shaped peanut butter sandwich, huh? Isn’t it awesome?

It’s OK, Papa, but can I have a triangle shape sandwich, please?

INNER VOICE: Weeps, especially as you keep forgetting about the George Forman and the ability to make a grilled cheese sandwich… with cool stripes on them :)

 

 

(Part Two:) ...BOO"         HAPPY HALLOWEEN