Instead of giving moms-to-be sweet cards about how wonderful life with their new baby will be, I often feel like I should instead give them a book of realistic things that will happen.
Not that life isn’t wonderful with a kid, but let’s be real.
There’s a lot of poop.
And spitting up.
And screaming and crying.
There are those times she will stomp her foot…at you.
And wave her finger in your face at the same time.
And it takes every ounce of your being not to smack her to next Tuesday and then kick her butt again on Wednesday.
There’s also the fact that your house no longer becomes yours anymore. Instead, it becomes the property of the kid and her entourage of Mr. Bear, a herd of horses, a dog conveniently named Dog and every known small stuffed animal that can be found at the Target Dollar spot.
And its not just inside of your house.
It extends into your yard.
Pretty soon, you’ll be making way for swing sets, little pink plastic cars, John Deere tricycles, every other mode of toddler transportation known to mankind and even their own little cedar house and car garage.
These are the things I feel each mother-to-be should be warned about.
Especially the stomping of the foot and waving of the finger. I mean, ain’t nobody got time for that.
And I haven’t even begun to talk about how we are supposed to find the time to clean up our houses and all the outdoor paraphernalia that our properties have gained since the arrival of the kid.
Before you know it, the three year old has graffitied the inside of her adorable little cedar house with sidewalk chalk and you’re wondering how in the world half-eaten corn cobs made their way inside and all around the house.
Ok. Maybe the corn cob thing is just our issue.
That’s when it hits you. You make the kid clean it all up.
In her cowboy boots, of course.
10 minutes in, she loses interest and you are actually thanking God that she lost interest so that she doesn’t wave the deck washer at you anymore and instead of becoming 100% soaked, you’re a strong 90%.
Its the little things we start to rejoice in.
And while she parades around the yard on her battery-powered motorcycle, you actually manage to take custody of the playhouse back from the squirrel posse that had waged war with corn cobs.
Luckily, you won’t break your back because both the tank sprayer filled with cleaning solution and the deck washer to scrub it all with are long enough to reach inside the playhouse without you crouching on all fours to enter a space that was meant only for
squirrels small people.
You even manage to scrub away all the bird poop from the roof when the birds had apparently tried to take over the little cedar house from the squirrels.
And the astroturf rug its sitting on gets scrubbed as well.
And just as you are standing back admiring your work, while also wondering how it is that a playhouse can now be cleaner than your house, you see the kid running up to the house – with a bucket of chalk that you thought you had hid from her.
At least its not the squirrels with more corn.
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Disclosure: This post was a collaboration with HomeRight. However, all opinions and weird stories about squirrels are 100% mine.
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