I admit to whole heartedly believing that the haze of poop, drool, and what I'm chalking up to two-years of teething might be the hardest thing I've ever had to endure. In fact, aside from the amazing and frequent moments of pure and utter joy that I wish I could freeze in time forever, I'm often surprised that people do it again.
But the challenges of babydom are truly no match for what essentially was "just keep them alive and off your fancy carpet" to "oh shit they can talk back now and open the front door on their own" parenting.
It hit me one night during a morbid obsession of trying to figure out what would happen if for some reason my daughter found me injured and I couldn't call for help. And then I realized that perhaps I've been living with my head stuck up my whiny, hemorrhoid infested ass that just can't keep up with my almost running 10-month-old when really the hard stuff has only just begun.
So not to send myself into a complete and total panic that would involve me waking her up and teaching her everything on my newly constructed massively long list of everything she needs to know, I instead talked to a friend and put a highly recommended book on my reading list for the new year.
And then I searched the blogs, although I suppose teaching your kid your phone number and explaining how it's okay to say "no" to an adult are not the most interesting blog topics. But boy could I use some hilarious posts about how silly parents think a cranky baby is soooooooooooo hard until they realize their cranky baby is now a little cranky person who doesn't know where the hell she lives and how to wipe her ass.
Oh wait. That's me.
I am trying to teach her our phone number, to the tune of "Twinkle Twinkle" in fact, to which she corrects me with the correct words. And we did have the private parts conversation, to which she told me that everyone can wipe her "bum-bum."
Perhaps we'll need a bit of work.
And I'll be honing the fine art of presenting this material (along with her father) in a way that gets her attention but doesn't scare the living shit out of her. Considering that I have the finesse of a large bull, that will probably be the hardest part of all.
Too bad they don't teach you that in the birthing class.
If you've got suggestions, resources, assvice, or an extensive panic-inducing list of what your kid knows, feel free to share!