In the grocery store.
At each and every family function.
You hear the same thing:
“Ooooh you’re going to miss these days! They go by so fast!”
Today, I have one thing to say to all those smarmy sentiments that simultaneously make me want to cry and smack someone in the face:
Either those people are guilt-ridden trying to remember “those days” as joy-filled-running-through-the-fields in a Hallmark commercial, or they have seriously selective memories.
Because you know what?
Quite truthfully, there are plenty of things that I am NOT going to miss about these days.
A short sampling:
- Being awakened at exactly 3:00 in the morning by a small, sweaty bedfellow who has snuck into your room without you knowing. Again. Being slightly annoyed by said bedfellow until you realize, your stomach gripping in horror, that the small bedfellow, who has been potty-trained for months, has filled your bed with an encircling puddle of pee. Even in your sleep-ridden state, you begrudgingly admire your conniving three-year old for her incredible timing, seeing as you just washed and changed all your bed linens only hours ago. If you are guessing that this is what happened to me last night, inspiring today’s rant-like blog post, you would be correct.
- Being banished to sleep on the living room floor while the guilty bedfellow gets to snuggle happily back into her own bed.
- Scarfing down meals in between retrieving tossed sippy cups, cutting up food into microscopic portions, breaking up fights, and bandaging mysterious wounds.
- Dreading the daily, inevitable, exorbitantly time-consuming, and exhausting evening grind of dinner, clean-up, baths, and bedtime.
- The teeny voice proclaiming “Mama, I have to go potty!” at the precise moment you are in the farthest possible location from the restroom at the grocery store, with a cart full of frozen foods.
- The moment you realize that it has been silent for far too long, signifying that your children are 1) playing in the toilet 2) pooping somewhere they shouldn’t 3) killing each other 4) drawing on the wall with a permanent marker
- Along that vein, the inability to complete one entire, coherent thought. Like, ever.
- The struggle and inevitable fifty-yard naked dash that accompanies each and every diaper change and clothing change. One would think that the giant rolls encompassing the baby’s thighs would somewhat impede her progress, but it’s incredible how fast a chubby, stumbling infant can be.
- The mysterious ability of a baby to wake up at the exact moment your bottom hits the chair as you sit down at the computer.
- And this, the sound that fill my ears long after my children have (finally) gone to sleep: