I will never eat secret ice cream, I thought.
Fast forward to last week. There were several nights where I got my dessert on after everyone was in bed. I made cookies and didn't share them with the kids. I am a mean-sneaky parent.
It got me thinking about some of the other things I swore I'd never do.
1. Drive a CrumbmobileMy mother used to call her car the Crumbmobile, because its floors were often littered with crumbs and other bits of assorted dirt. I kind of judged her for it—and I was a child at the time! (Never mind that I was probably responsible for at least a third of the mess!) I vowed that when I was a mom with two kids and a yellow Volvo, I would not drive a Crumbmobile.
My car is not a yellow Volvo, but it would put my mother's Crumbmobile to shame. The inside looks like a movie theater floor and a granola bar factory had a baby. (Sorry I was such a judgey little bitchpants, Mom.)
2. Say "potty.""Potty" is my "moist." I find it so unaesthetic and icky, and I was determined that I would never, ever say it. And then potty training happened, and I purchased a little plastic potty, and "time to go sit on the potty" and potty potty potty. Potty on, dudes.
3. Say "okay?"Whenever I hear parents say something to their child like, "Five more minutes and then we have to go, okay?" I always want to jump in and say, "No! Not okay!" Because the kid almost certainly doesn't want to go in five minutes. The kid is having an awesome time! Using "okay?" to mean "did you hear me?" or "do you understand?" is actually pretty disrespectful. Do adults say "okay" like that to each other? (That's not a rhetorical question. I've actually never noticed and I'm curious.)
The problem with "okay?" is that the more you hear it, the harder it is not to fall into a pattern of saying it. I've slipped a few times and it feels awful, like a weird parenting nerve misfiring.
4. Buy baby food in pouches.I don't know how long these things have actually been around, but a couple years ago it suddenly seemed like every solid-food-eating baby over a certain age was toting one around the playground. I did. not. get it. Okay, I got that they were portable, but something about the bag o' puree seemed super icky. Plus, they were pricey. Just blend your own carrots, I thought.
Enter Ivy, a solid-food-eating baby who wanted to self-feed right from the get-go. My home-blended carrots were only acceptable if they were thick enough to stick to the spoon. And then sometimes she'd gag on them, and I'd feel crappy. Plus, there was now an older child around, also in need of lunch. Pouches to the rescue! Ivy is mostly done with them now, but for a while, she had a two-pouch-a-day habit that I fully supported!
I still think the bag o' puree thing is kind of icky, but after a few months of regular pouch consumption, Ivy taught herself to drink through a straw. So that's something.
5. Do presents from Santa.Rob was with me on this. We were going to Christmas it up big time in December, just without Santa Claus. The problem was we didn't not include Santa. It only took Westley a couple of Christmas movies (plus whatever he absorbed from the culture around him) to decide on his own that he believed in Santa. It was heart-melting. There was nothing I could do...
...except have Santa fill stockings on Christmas Eve.
6. Stay home full-time.Five-and-a-half years down, and (more than likely) five-and-a-half years to go.
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P.S. I was also one of those know-it-all pregnant women who was never going to let having children be my "not enough time" excuse. Reality is I've been trying to write something for over a week, and every time I sit down at the computer, the baby squawks for assistance. Every time.
My pregnant self knew nothing. Children are time vampires. The end.