Kid Tested, Mother DisApproved.

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We’ve already established that I want to have kids one day. Before I ever decided that I wanted to get married, I knew wanted to have kids. I always figured it would be me, my two dogs, two kids, and four houseplants ballin outta control. I’ll see my friends 1.5 year old give her a kiss on the cheek and tell her he loves her, and I can’t wait to have kids of my own. But then, I’ll hear about a kid smearing his poop ridden diaper all over the carpet and thank the stars above that the children that are currently in my life are returnable. As much as I love kids and want to have some of my own some day, I still have my qualms about being a parent. Below are a few reasons why.

1. Home made crafts: What the fuck am I going to do with all those homemade cards my children are going to be bringing home from school? You know, the Christmas cards with cotton balls glued to the front that resemble Frosty the Snowman, and Thanksgiving turkeys made by tracing their hands?! My fridge will only be so big, I can’t be buying two just to accommodate their kindergarten dreams of being Picasso. And where am I going to put their popsicle picture frames? That shit is gonna fuck up the feng shui of the modern interior design of my living room! 

2. Broken dreams: Speaking of dreams, how does a parent support her child’s dream IF S/HE SUCKS AT IT?  How do I encourage they try out for American Idol if they sound like a dying cat? I wonder how many bottles of wine I’m going to throwback everytime I pay for a semester at their dream art school, when all their artwork still looks like the Frosty the Snowman cotton balls they made in kindergarten. Am I supposed to fake laugh during their stand up routine at The Improv when I secretly want to sneak out the backdoor and chill in my car with the engine running until they’re finished? 

3. ADD: Kids can do a lot of things: poop, cry, whine, eat, etc. You know what else they can do? TALK. Kids reach this certain age where they want to tell you everything and everything takes at least 17 minutes to explain. I eagerly await and dread the day I come home with a work-induced migraine and my kids, filthy from playing run up to me with a plethora of questions like, “Why is the sky blue? Why do dogs bark? Where do babies come from? Why Why Why WHY WHY?” What do I do when I am too engulfed in Love And Hip Hop ATL to listen to their 30 minute stories about how their imaginary friend Rex stole daddy’s wallet and took it to the land of Purple Doggledooders over the rainbow? 

4. The “cool” factor: I don’t care what you motherfuckers think – I am fucking cool. Even at my utmost UNcool, I still have two extremely cool little big cousins that keep me in check. Thanks to my blog and social media, I’m able to stay hip with the times. WTF? That is totally some shit an old, uncool person would say. Alas, I know that no matter how cool I am my kids won’t want anything to do in public with me once they hit the sixth grade. And at one point (or seven points) in their lives they will even hate me. Especially if I’m going to embarrass them as much as I plan to.

5. I’m going to be THAT mom at the playground: You know, that mom that gives the signature “Don’t test me” mom face to other people’s kids. That mom that will put a helmet, elbow pads, knee pads and head to toe leathers on their child when first learning how to ride a bicycle. That mom that’s screaming at the little league coach and getting kicked out of high school basketball games. You know, that mom who does a hymen inspection on every hood rat her son takes home. 

 

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