I did this last December and we’re doing it again in 2013. I asked my email subscribers (aka, Subscribers Doin’ Work) to share some funny parenting stories, and I chose ten to use for this blog (hopefully there are no hard feelings if I didn’t choose your story, because I received a ton of submissions). Let’s get to it!
Editor’s Note: If you’re not a Subscriber Doin’ Work, what are you waiting on? See the fields to your right? Enter your name and email address to become a SDW and you can participate in fun stuff like this that my other Facebook and Twitter followers miss out on. OK, now we’re ready to begin.
Most of my stories involve my now 3 year old daughter and her obsession with poop. For some reason she liked to play with it. It was a year straight of what I like to call the “dark times.” This particular incident was just before she turned 3. My husband was cooking dinner and I was laying on the couch half asleep, but still kind of aware. My daughter comes to me and puts something on my lap saying, “Here’s a black flower for you mommy.” She was proud, beaming. I look down and there is a piece of shit squished into a pancake shape on my lap. Not the kind of flat from being pressed against your butt. No. It was round and flat because she molded it. After a mini ‘WTH’ moment, it was fun to explain to her disappointed face that we don’t play with poop like play dough.
I am a pre-med student and my son really enjoys “reading” my anatomy text books with me. When he was 3, my daughter was born, so the reproductive chapters were particularly interesting to him. Not one to sugarcoat or talk down to him, I answered all his questions as honestly as possible – including the nitty-gritties of how the baby comes out.
Turns out that was a mistake. One day, while I was using the restroom at Target, my son got down on the floor and started trying to look between my legs. I said, shocked, “WHAT are you DOING?!” He innocently (and loudly) replied, “Looking for where the baby comes out!” Did I mention there was a full house and the restroom had a nice echo effect?
I’m still embarrassed.
My kids and I like to joke around with each other – especially in the car passing time on the way to school each morning. My then 7 year old (he’s turning 10 this month) finds me particularly funny.
One day while we talked about how I was looking for work and what I should do he blurted out, “Dad, you should be a historical Canadian!” It took me moment to figure out what he meant. I asked him, “Do you mean a ‘hysterical comedian’?” He said, “Yeah…that!”
My husband was taking our family to eat at a restaurant for Valentine’s Day. They had a bucket of crabs on sale so I decided to get them. My daughter, 6 at the time (now 10), says in a rather loud voice, “Mommy, share your crabs with daddy!” Heads turned and my face probably turned three shades of red, but it makes a great memory now and now we laugh about it!
I try and use anatomically correct words with my kids. Add in a dash of my daughter’s tendency to mix and mangle words (she can thank my genes for that) and you get this story.
After natural childbirth the second time, my body took a little longer to heal. When I had to go, I really had to go – if you know what I mean, ladies. One day I decided it would be a good idea to take the baby on a long drive to IKEA. It had been a brutal night of wake ups and nursing, so I stopped at Starbucks for a grande soy latte.
Under normal circumstances, with a properly functioning body, this is what I would do. When we pulled into the IKEA parking structure an hour later, the baby was sleeping. This would’ve been awesome if only I didn’t have to PEE LIKE A POSTPARTUM RACEHORSE! I didn’t want to wet my pants, because I’m a grown woman… but there was no way I was going to wake that baby up! What a pickle! I needed to act fast. I looked at my empty coffee cup. Without hesitation, I took the lid off and pulled my pants down. My head bumped the ceiling as I positioned myself over it. I looked out into the dark parking structure to make sure no one was watching. Then, I peed in the cup.
While I was peeing I did wonder if my cup would runneth over. Lucky for me, God designs perfect grande-sized bladders.
I put the lid back on and put it in the cup holder. I would throw it away when the baby woke up. I did not soil myself, the baby slept and I did not get arrested for indecent exposure and public urination. In those early days of motherhood, that’s what I called a very good day.