Momisms
Momisms
Or: 38 ways they didn't tell you the truth about motherhood
15. They tell you he’ll sleep through the night after three months. Liars. Then they tell you he’ll definitely sleep after six months. Filthy liars.
Or: 38 ways they didn't tell you the truth about motherhood
1. You will wake up to your smiling baby, feeling full of love,
only to be kicked in the gut and head butted.
2. On the way to baby’s one-month appointment, you drive
past an exit for "Pleasant Valley” and wish it were yours. It sounds like
people could sleep there.
3. You will find crusty things on your face. You won’t know
what they are or how long they've been there.
4. How you greet the mailman at the door: “Did you get up
five times last night? No? You gotta try it! Hey, got any crack? I sure could
use some!”
5. Your boobs will reminisce about the days when they
didn't have a job.
6. You learn the meaning of a Good Housekeeping Magazine
seal of approval: The product actually does what it says it'll do. You wonder
if they give those seals to fathers.
7. If you had known you’d pay in sleep for your past sins, you
would’ve thought twice...and then still sinned. Dang it. Never mind.
8. The run-the-vacuum-during-naptime cure works as well as
your miracle wrinkle cream.
9. You consider capitalizing on your new crackhead chic
look, offering friends makeunders available only after 2 a.m.
10. After a run, you take off your sports bra and discover your missing belly girdle in a sweaty wad under your giant nursing boobs.
11. You take your infant for that traditional Christmas
photo at the mall, and you keep hoping for a miracle that he’ll say “boobs”
when Santa asks what he wants.
12. On a freezing morning after no sleep, your car doors
won't open, so you pound and kick them because obviously they're frozen.
Nothing works. Then you try the unlock button. Oh.
13. No one told you your child, upon teething, would turn
into Hannibal Lecter.
14. If your baby were a superhero, he would fight sleep
instead of crime.
15. They tell you he’ll sleep through the night after three months. Liars. Then they tell you he’ll definitely sleep after six months. Filthy liars.
16. An older man at the grocery store smiles at your obviously
male baby and asks, "Boy or girl?” You smile and reply, “Girl. Now you
have a nice day, ma'am."
17. Three months postpartum, it’s like there's a traffic
jam at the top of your thighs, preventing your old pants from getting where
they need to be.
18. You know you smell vomit, but you haven't yet located
it.
19. When your 8-month-old twists your unoccupied nipple over
and over while nursing, you will scream-sing the chorus to “Love is a Battlefield.”
20. A friendly stranger smiles while you’re walking with
your baby in the stroller. You attempt to smile back, but your mouth is too dry
from nursing dehydration and your lip sticks to your tooth. You decide being
friendly is overrated.
21. If one more person says of severe sleep deprivation
"it's worth it" or "one day you'll miss these days," you
will walk slowly until you catch them and then eat their brains, because you
are officially a zombie.
22. As you put baby to sleep, someone in the nearby kitchen
will inevitably use the icemaker, aka Mountain Rockslide Sound Maker. You will wish
them persistent, explosive diarrhea.
23. You will marvel at the ability of poop to travel upward.
24. When men old enough to know better don’t offer help while
watching you struggle with a white-hot coffee and a 300-pound car seat full of
screaming infant, you hope they're stricken with an incurable itch in an unsavory place.
25. When the phone rings while you're trying to calm your colicky
newborn, you will wish you knew how to curse in sign language.
26. Zero sleep is the new eight.
27. If one more person mentions cereal or crying it out, you
will hire a hit man to take them out.
28. You will seriously question why the tube of Orajel
doesn't have a note saying "straight jacket and/or stun gun recommended
for easy application."
29. You wonder about the ethics of rigging the doorbell to
administer an electric shock to anyone who interrupts your nap-time routine.
30. In one year, your boobs have undergone three identity
crises.
31. After endless rounds of the pick-up game, you wonder how
long the toys will stay super-glued to his hands ... or will duct tape be
better? ... how about velcro! ... bungee cord?
32. Because that box of feminine-hygiene products is
fascinating your toddler, you have 10 uninterrupted minutes to pluck your shamefully
unkempt eyebrows. You now think it’s okay to bring tampons to restaurants for
ten minutes of uninterrupted dinner.
33. Diapering a toddler is not unlike calf roping. Except
with the latter, you can leave the crap on the ground.
34. While your toddler uses your body as a track for his
bulldozer, you hear your nursing-ravaged breasts referred to as mountains.
Hyperbole never sounded so sweet.
35. You want to do a remake of WuTang’s “C.R.E.A.M.”:
Cleaning Rules Everything Around Me.
36. To know how many times a toddler will ask the question
“why,” count the hairs on his head.
37. Your 2-year-old turns into an octopus every time you dress
him. You wonder if those airbrush people at the mall can spray him a permanent
outfit.
38. Your toddler's burgeoning speech sounds like Harry
Caray. You like it.
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