Tag Archives: Sex

Nothing personal – that’s just a few million years talking.

Posted on by Before I Had Kids
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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.

Sincerely,

Genetics

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.”

I’m not proofreading this post – it grosses me out.

Posted on by Before I Had Kids
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Our son is at that magical, charming, endearing age where he is not yet old enough to be potty trained, but is plenty old enough to prefer not to hang out with a diaper full of his own filth.

His latest “hinting that he wants to be changed” technique?

Sticking his hand in his diaper, pulling it out and holding it up as if to say “see?  I need to be changed, like FOR REAL!”

(Yes, that was the non-graphic version.  You’re welcome.)

Now, I’m sure some parents will tell you “oh, it’s not disgusting, it’s just a part of being a parent – I really don’t mind, because he’s just such a little miracle and I’m just oh so very blessed that scraping poop off of 4 square feet of baby parts is really not a chore, it’s just a different kind of blessing.”

Those people are known as alcoholics.

In reality, this sort of thing is disgusting on a level that non-parents cannot possibly understand.

Oh no, not in that condescending “OMG you’re not a parent you COULDN’T POSSIBLY UNDERSTAND” sort of way.  No no, I know that non-parents could not understand this because if they did . . . if explosive diarrhea was really covered in the “So You Want to Procreate” brochure . . . nobody would ever do it.

No children would be created.

This holiday season’s craze wouldn’t be the Furbee or Tickle-Me Elmo, it would be Mass Vasectomies.

You really want to fuel the abstinence movement?  Forget fear of Hell . . . bring the fear of poo-smearing toddler into the mix and that whole unwanted teen pregnancy thing?  Like, totally solved.