Terrible Twos

If you are childless, do not read this. As many people will tell you once you have kids, no one tells you all of the bad stuff about having children. I didn't know anything about the bad when I was pregnant (besides the obvious), only the good. I've thought about this, and here are 2 theories:

1. It's an evolutionary thing. If people had shared all of the bad stuff about parenthood, no one would have kids, and then the population would die out. It's part of the reason babies of animals are so darn cute (that way thier mommy and daddy animals will want to take care of them) <-That I do know is true.

2. People don't tell you about all this shit because they WANT you desperately to have children and destroy your life like they did so they are not alone, and also so that they have other Mommies and Daddies to commisserate with.

I believe these theories are both true, so on that note, all parentless souls, stop reading. I don't want to stop you from sharing in all of our joy. (Being a Mom is wonderful, I really do love it, I just feel cynical today, I promise!)

All of you lucky Moms and Dads, read on.....

This morning, as per usual, I woke up to the sound of wailing 25 minutes before my alarm goes off. I enter my son's room, one eye open, stumbling around in a drunken sailor-like fashion. He is practically falling out of his crib, trying to escape. I pick him up and ask if he is thirsty. "Da," he replies like a little dutchman, nodding his head. I take him into the kitchen.

"Do you want some milk?"

"Da."

I open the refrigerator. Suddenly, all hell breaks loose. He starts shrieking. "What?" I ask. Then my favorite new phrase: "Use your words, Drew."

No answer, he just gets louder.

Then my second favorite phrase. "Please show me."

He points at the cupboard. "Crackers."

"No,we are having breakfast right now, we don't eat crackers for breakfast."

Louder shrieks continue. I say shrieks but really there is no word for this ungodly sound coming out of his mouth. I am a little afraid we might have to call a priest for an exorcism. I can barely look at him, for fear his head might start spinning around.

I set him down in his high chair, as he is still wailing. At this point there are no words to sooth or calm this devil child, and all I can do at this point is wait for a moment when he catches his breath. "Drew, how about some muffins instead?"

The wailing has ceased, which is a good thing because I would've had to leave the room screaming in about ten seconds. "Da," he says in a little voice.

"Can you say please?" I ask, clearly pushing my luck.

"Peas?"

"Thank you," I say, pretending as if nothing had even happened. Inside, I am ready to tear my hair out. While I may have won the battle, I lost the war, even though there is blueberries in the muffin, the crackers are probably better for him.

Then there is the battle to get dressed, the war of the woulds, and the buckling into the car conference. Halfway through my car ride to child care I realize I have not eaten or brushed my hair, I left my purse in the house and my shirt's on inside out.

Isn't it great to be a parent?