Stage One: Denial
“Nah, it’s not dirty – I think that was just gas.”
“Are you sure? He’s sort of squirming around and grabbing at his pants . . .”
“It’s just gas. It HAS TO BE. I’ve changed 3 dirty diapers already this morning.”
Stage Two: Anger
“Gosh! How many times could one baby possibly poop in ONE SINGLE DAY?”
“I mean, seriously! You’re killing me here, child. How long until you’re potty-trained, anyway? You’re already eighteen months old. You know, if you were a lobster you would already have grown up and gone to a good school and found a good job and settled down and had your own lobster babies and wouldn’t even be my problem anymore.”
Stage Three: Bargaining
“You change him? Please? PLEASE!? I’ll do it all day tomorrow.”
“I’ll give you a THOUSAND DOLLARS.”
“I’ll watch a Gossip Girl marathon with you tonight while discussing the characters during the commercial breaks. While eating a cake that I will bake for you. From scratch. Off of new china that I will buy for you. Not from the dollar store. Not even on clearance!”
Stage Four: Depression
“Lord, why have I done this to myself? Why have I been forsaken with this Plague of Poo?”
“When will my poopy penance be paid?”
“When will I be released from this poopy purgatory?”
Stage Five: Acceptance
“Sigh. All right. It’s no big deal, right? It’s just another dirty diaper. Just one amongst the one hundred and fifty million others.”
“Don’t worry honey, I’ll get this one, you just relax.”
“Oh okay, thanks! Wait . . . what do you mean by that?”
“Nothing my love, only that you should continue watching football while I change this dirty diaper. It’s no problem – really! Can I grab you another beer while I’m up?”
“I’m going to pay for this, aren’t I?”
“Only when you least expect it.”
We have a daughter who is now old enough to go to school 5 days a week. Because we both work, she stays for lunch and therefore needs a lunch and two snacks packed every. single. day.
Before I had kids I really didn’t realize how difficult it is to pack 5 lunches and 10 snacks every week that are nutritious and have some remote likelihood of being ingested by a 5 year old.
You go get some groceries on the weekend, you spend some time packing a kick-ass lunch for her on Sunday night, but as the week wears on, and the groceries and patience start to wear thin, things can get a bit less well-rounded . . .
Before I had kids, I had moments in which I was proud.
And sure, I’ll have more proud moments – graduations, A+ report cards in language, (C- report cards in math), sports and activities wins, first homes, marriages to spouses who aren’t good enough for my kids, etc., etc.
But really? On the scale of being a proud Dad, I don’t see how any will ever compare to the day my 18 month old son started eating sausage . . . with a screwdriver.
Dear Analytical People of the World,
If you have a baby and are deciding whether or not to have a second/third/fourth/Duggerth, abandon your precious “logic” at the door. It will do you no good here.
Abandon all hope, ye who enter.
When Your Baby is 1 Month Old
“What have we done? What have we done to our lives? Why would we do something like this? WHY, DAMNIT!? <<uncontrollable sobbing>> I haven’t slept. I can hardly see straight. Our friends are out there frolicking in sleep-in, watch football, go-to-dinner-and-a-movie happy super fun land and here we are, in this cage . . . that WE created. I HATE YOU SO MUCH I CAN’T EVEN DESCRIBE IT. WHY have you done this to me!? I knew my mother was right about you.”
When Your Baby is 3 Months Old
“How could we have done this to ourselves? This is the ONLY kid we’re ever having. We’ll take shifts until she gets her driver’s license and then things will go back to their beautiful, normal, blissful, relaxing, child-free state of awesomeness. We’ll start charging her rent at 17 and straight-up kick her out onto the street if she’s not gone by 19.”
When Your Baby is 6 Months Old
“I mean, even if I wanted to (and I DON’T, let’s be clear on this) . . . even if I wanted to have another baby, neither of us have showered today and we’ve both been peed and spit up on so many times in the past six months, this ain’t exactly like a sheepskin rug, a crackling fire and a Barry White album. No offense honey, but even if we wanted to, I’m not sure how we could possibly get pregnant any time in the next . . . like, let’s say 2 years.”
When Your Baby is 1 Year Old
“I’m happy with our decision, honey. Really, I am. No, I am. I am. I am. I mean, I know lots of kids who grew up as only children and didn’t turn out totally screwed up. Lots! And yeah, I love hanging out with my sisters, and I know you love hanging out with your brother and sister, and yeah the holidays are SO much better with lots of family around . . . but yeah, I’m happy with our decision. Really, I am. No, I am. I am. I am. Love it. Love you so much hun!”
When Your Baby is Almost 2
“What!? You don’t want to have another baby!? Are you kidding me? No, no. It’s okay. I mean, if you want to have one of those screwed up only children, that’s fine. I’ve wanted to have a second all along, but if you want to change that now . . . you know, maybe my mother was right about you, after all.”
Solve For X
A baby and a toddler are playing with toys while their father is alone with them, cleaning the house.
If the baby (A) is able to mess up 12 toys, 2 diapers, 1 cup of water and 3 books per hour, the toddler (B) is able to mess up 8 articles of clothing, 7 crackers and 123 toys (124 minus the 1 that she puts away after she’s done with it) per hour, and their father (C) is able to clean 90 items per hour (without food, water or bathroom breaks), then at what amount of elapsed time does the father (C) finally say “screw this” and turn on the football game (X)?