This is not a mom blog, but it does have occasional mom posts. Because being a mom is a pretty engrossing thing. My son is almost 2 and a half years old, and over the last couple of weeks, some thoughts have come into my mind that I never could have imagined in my child-free days. Oh, the thinks you can think (props, Dr. Seuss) when you’re caring for a little uncivilized barbarian (props to Dr. Harvey Karp).
* I can’t believe I am paying someone to defecate in a toilet, and the currency for that transaction is Froot Loops.
* A child can grow with peanut butter and milk as their only sources of protein, right?
* People come to IHOP expecting screaming toddlers to be there, so my screaming child isn’t totally ruining their meal. It’s not like I brought him to the Capital Grille, or even a place that serves alcohol. Right?
* Why am I waking up at 7 a.m. without an alarm clock? What has happened to me?
* I have many, many adult thoughts on what unfortunately is my son’s favorite TV show: Thomas the Train. Just a few: Thomas is a f@$k-up; Gordon and James are total assholes; Sir Topham Hatt - ha! more like Sir Dictator Asshatt; Clearly Emily should be running everything because she’s the most competent one, but she’s held back by the glass ceiling of the male-dominated train industry on Sodor.
* That’s only a little poop under my fingernail. Not too bad. Not like that one time.
* Could a hostage negotiator convince my toddler to eat meat? Or a lobbyist? Or a debate coach? I feel like it’s time to bring in some professional persuaders.
* I can’t believe I just inadvertently taught him the phrases, “tig ole bitties" and “manslaughter.”
* Does everyone at church think he just screamed the F-word? He said “truck,” people! That’s how he says “truck!”
* I can totally name that piece of construction equipment.
* Oh, you went to Iceland? I used to travel to exotic places, too. Last week we went to the dairy farm.
* If I squat down behind the cabinets, he won’t see me eat a cookie.
* I remember staying out as a couple past 7:30 p.m. Distantly remember, that is.
* I don’t ever want him to play football. Too many concussions. Or any sport where you have to go to tournaments in places like Sioux City, Iowa, every weekend.
* The way he says “boo boo” is about the cutest thing ever.
