Poo-free Parenting!

Parenthood.

It’s a terrifying, goosebump-inducing word on which, many a book has been written. But it’s also one of those words that makes us as happy as a dead pig in the sunshine. (<—See, still determined to let that Southern out. My momma would be proud. Well…maybe not for that particular expression, but I get an A for effort, right?)

Notice the color of the word “parenthood.” It looks like baby poop. And I hate baby poop.

Sometimes I hate parenthood, but before you get all indignant on me and start reaching for the baseball bat and the number to Child Services hear me out. I LOVE MY KIDS. I LOVE BEING A PARENT.

Most of the time.

It’s the hardest job in the entire world and there are times that I would rather pull my hair out strand by strand and replace them with sewing needles rather than…say…wipe my kids’ butt, but I live for their hugs & kisses afterwards. (And by “afterwards”, I mean after they’ve had a good bath!) My point is that there’s nothing wrong with getting frustrated with your job, even if your job is your kids. It happens, it’s life. You love ’em anyway and move on.

I love photography, but that doesn’t mean I love every single aspect of being a photographer. It’s the same idea when you’re a parent.

For instance; your baby comes up, jumps into your arms with the biggest, sweetest grin on their precious little face and gives you the best bear hug in creation. Then they fart.

Or what about when your little girl wants so badly to paint her little sister’s toe nails and, foolishly thinking it will be a fun way to show her you support her independence, you let her. You walk away for a moment to answer the phone or do some other quick task that you usually do on auto-pilot. You come back and find that Big Sister is done with Little Sister’s spa experience. She does a fantastic job and you’re really impressed! Then you look at your new light-tan colored, micro-fiber sectional sofa and realize it’s covered in pepto-pink polish and the house smells like an acetone factory.

Potty-training is a great example. You’re so proud when the little monster finally rings the toilet for the first time that you decide to let him or her run around in undies for the rest of the day. You’re calling everybody! “My baby just used the toilet!” You’re sending half-naked pictures of your kid in underwear to your family and even though all you’re getting back is “?….um…yay?” you’re still so stoked at the prospect of never buying diapers again that you read that text like it’s exploding confetti. It’s all fine and good until they fall asleep in the closet on top of the freshly laundered and folded pile of clothes you just put on the shelf and pee all over it.

How about this one; you love the adorable little things your babies say, but you hate it when they repeat the not-so-adorable things that you say. I’ll never forget when my kids dropped the F-Bomb.

All three of them have done it and they each have their own special story. I’m not going into it here, but if you want to know, just ask. I’ll put it in the comments for you curious ones.

But how about the funny things you say that you never thought would fall out of your mouth because of something your child did or said? Things like: “Stop licking the porch” and “well, baby, go up under the table and get some Cheerios out of the bathtub.” And the bad thing is that they actually make sense! It’s not a random occurance. You didn’t just wake up one morning and think “I’ve been dying to say this in a sentence for years!” If you walk up and see your kid licking the porch, the only logical conclusion is to say “stop licking the porch.” If your kids (or grandkids) dump an entire box of cereal into a baby bathtub and drag it under the kitchen table to camp out and eat it – when one of those kids is being left out and says they’re hungry, what do you tell them? You tell ’em to go under the dang table and eat some Cheerios!

I remember when my son saw me breast-feeding my youngest daughter. I was covered, of course, but he’d gotten smart and figured out what I was doing. He asked me, “are you giving Kira your Mommy-Cow milk?” What else do you say besides YES? He once asked me what I had in my “brain head” and I responded with, “I have brains in my brain head.” Imagine if I’d been in a legal office somewhere and was upset with some pretentious lawyer who deemed it necessary to explain even the simplest legal terms to us “common folk.” If I said “I’m not stupid. I got brains in my brain head,” how many of you are willing to bet a million dollars I’d get a look similar to this:

But to the kid, it makes you the most intelligent person to ever walk the Earth.

That is what makes being a parent so great. Knowing that your kids need you & love you more than anyone else on the planet – even when you do and say stupid stuff – is what makesΒ parenthood look a lot less poo-colored. πŸ™‚Β Try not to sweat the small stuff and enjoy every moment you can because even though they last way too friggin’ long sometimes, they never last long enough.

By the way, if you ever wake up to findΒ syrup all over every surface in your house, including the dogΒ (or anything else not meant to be spread like butter over random surfaces or fur) REMEMBER; YOU LOVE THEM. Take a deep breath (or a shot of Jack; whatever works) and hand ’em a rag because poo-free parenting doesn’t exist, but there’s always a way to make it stink less. They can scrub, learn a life lesson, hate you & build character all at the same time and you can pat yourself on the back for showing an outstanding display of parental genius while getting your house cleaned for FREE!

Found this picture in a Google search fromΒ http://www.suckypoems.com/sucky/cleaning-up-with-kids/
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9 thoughts on “Poo-free Parenting!

  1. Enjoy them while they are little………..I’m talking about children….

    Kids grow bigger and so do their bodily functions…

    spread the humor:charlywalker.wordpress.com

  2. Pingback: Change For A Dollar? « Bethylicious

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