A friend sent this to me eons ago, and every time I read it I have a new stage of motherhood to relate to/sympathize with/laugh about/bawl over. Enjoy.

Parenting poetry from the heart

(or maybe the spleen)

Stop! Stop! Stop!

I do not like this game.

Where you pretend to be a thrashing alligator

and you are naked. On the changing table.

And I am some lady

trying to put a diaper on an alligator.

Alligators don't wear diapers.

Or was that

your point?

.

I can hardly believe

how much noise can come from

such a small creature.

I must hide you away for the good of mankind

lest the military discover

your powers.

.

This is not a poisonous substance. It will not cause you harm.

There is no need to make that face. Or to spit it out.

It is

macaroni and cheese.

.

when you make that sound

somewhere

an angel's eardrums

explode

.

Wow.

That sure is a lot of poop.

And here I thought you didn't eat enough dinner.

Is that

a

noodle?

.

Did you know you are my heart

did you know you fill me with happiness

did you know you are my everything

did you know, my dear, oh did you

know

It is 5:30 in the freaking morning?

GO.

BACK.

TO.

SLEEP.

.

Splashing is fun!

And you are

slippery

and adorable

in the bathtub.

Oh look!

You made a fountain.

.

If you stop that screaming

I will pay you

Eleventy jillion dollars.

Really

I promise

Here is a check.

.

It is a good thing for the parents of small children like you

that God created

caffeine.

.

Here are the things in this household that are toys:

that. this. that. and that.

wait

the naming of toys

is going to take a long time

for there are SO VERY MANY OF THEM.

And yet you insist

on playing with

power cords.

.

Oh

hey

what

do

you

know

another

tooth.

.

Sometimes I want to put you in a spaceship

and push "Destination: Mars"

and wave goodbye to you my sweet

and pray for those unsuspecting Martians.

But then you smile

and laugh with me.

And I say oh okay

you can stay.

Those Martians

don't deserve you

anyway.

.

I love you more than my heart has room for

so my love spills everywhere

I am a Love Valdez

because of you. Baby mine.

:::

Maybe when you are done eating

you could say "no more"

or shake your head.

I do understand what you're saying

by letting the last mouthful fall out onto your shirt

so I guess we are communicating

but

I do enough freaking laundry

already.

.

No offense

but if you were on Survivor

you would get voted off

first.

They would say you had a strong personality

but they would really mean

that you were too whiny

wouldn't eat the coconuts

sucked at the puzzles

and couldn't swim a lick.

.

Your shoes are not filled with bees

I checked.

So why not

leave them on?

Oh. I guess

you're right

I did not

check

for sharks.

..

You are tired

do you know how I can tell?

Because you are acting

like a grownup.

One with a full bottle of tequila on an empty stomach, that is.

Let's go to bed, drunken toddler.

.

Yelling from the backseat is bad

it makes Mama's head

feel like a balloon that is about to pop

Balloons are pretty to look at, aren't they?

but believe me

Mama's popped head-balloon is something

you would need lots of therapy

to forget you ever saw.

Someone would have to come take you home

and a nice man named Mr. Wolf would have to clean up Mama's car.

So please,

let's be quiet back there.

.

It doesn't seem right

that I can tell whether or not you have pooped

before I even open your bedroom door.

.

I have read about horses

who expand their midsections when humans put saddles on their bodies

then later

they can exhale, and the saddle is too loose. And so they cannot be ridden.

Are you like a wild horse

who refuses the saddle?

Because this puffed out belly thing during diaper changes

is quite strange.

.

It seems unfair

that on top of all the responsibilities

the worry

the guilt

the raw, tender love

I have to clip your darn fingernails, too.

..

I am thinking about making a cracker

targeted especially for toddlers

they will be called Danger Crisps

and they will come

in the following flavors:

Electrical

Choking Hazard

Toxic

Rocks N' Dirt

I think they will be a hit, based on my extensive market research

of one.

.

My heart must be made of elastic

some stretchy material

with room for expansion.

My heart is like maternity wear

all because of you.

::::

Look!

Here,

in my hand

it's a Kleenex tissue

with lotion. Lotion!

It has aloe and vitamin E and it is soft.

If I were wiping your nose

with a Brillo pad

Maybe I could better understand

your reaction.

As it is

you're just making me

want to take my sweet-ass time.

.

.

Guess what,

little one.

I have

a newsflash

for you.

This task? At hand?

Is not my favorite

either.

How's about giving

me a break

So I can more properly

dig poop

from

your

scrotal

area.

.

Sometimes when you run

it looks like the bottom half of your body

isn't really connected

to the top half.

I don't know why

I love that so much.

My little malfunctioning

robot.

.

Hey! Let's flap our arms!

Hey! Let's play with trucks!

Hey! Let's scream with joy!

Hey! Let's run real fast!

Hey! Let's start crying for no reason whatsoever!

Wait.

Damn.

And it was going so well.

.

I like to take your pants off

because then you go all crazy

and run around giggling

As if you could say

I'm Crazy No-Pants Baby!

Give me some candy!

Maybe you wouldn't really say that

because you don't know who

Adam Sandler is

But that's what I imagine you saying

when you run around like some kind of

crazy no-pants baby.

.

I know the first time you did it

we laughed.

And now you don't understand

why it's not okay

to feed the dog string cheese.

Please, just

stop. She's getting

fat

and you're

not eating your

dinner.

.

I used to joke about

how it was a good thing babies aren't twenty feet tall

because oh my god

think of the damage they could do.

But now I know

if ever there was a twenty-foot baby

mostly things would get

drooled on.

Now, a twenty-foot toddler

that's just

terrifying.

.

Um, sweetie?

How can I say this

It makes Daddy

uncomfortable

when you curiously

touch

his nipple.

.

We share some opinions,

you and I.

Fruit is good

the cat's fur is soft

Being outside is fun

and that guy Joe?

On Blue's Clues?

Is an interloper

who should be burned

like a witch!

Burn him he's a witch!

Burn! Burn! Burn-

ahem.

Sorry.

I just felt like you and I

were on the same page,

on that one.

.

I was wondering what

your ingredient label would read

(if you had such a thing)

and I decided it would

include:

- Summer grass

- Thorn-bushes

- Labrador puppies

- Blue skies

- Treacherous seas

- High thread count sheets

- Electric eels

- Warm chocolate chip cookies, fresh from the oven

- Poop

- Sunshine

Exact content amounts would

vary, of course

depending on

various

things.

.

Today you ran

full tilt

directly into my knees

and hugged me.

And I was all,

be careful!

But I didn't really want you to be careful

if that meant

not doing it again.

.

Kissing you is sort of

like kissing

a

banana slug.

Well I'm sorry!

But it is.

Come here,

my beloved

Old-Navy-clad

gastropod.

.

Whenever I hold your tiny, eager hands

I think

Please

oh please

Let me be so lucky

to hold your hands throughout the years

Let me hold your reluctant, older hands

and remember the days

when they were tiny

Post for Daddy

I have been accused at times of maintaining a very Elle-centric blog (heck, I lead an Elle-centric life!), as if nothing exists in our lives outside of The Pigtailed One (wait... does it?)... so this blog is (mostly) about Dad. Jay has always been obsessed interested in cars, and recently has started doing a ton of his own mechanicy type work and discovered the adrenaline rush of tracking his death traps finely tuned vehicles. Initially, he had the daunting task of convincing me that he wasn't actually destined for bodily injury. Or worse, noggin injury. Fancy helmet, harnesses, and a Hans device later I'm pretty comfortable with it. And he loves it. He spent the weekend at a race school and E and I joined him Saturday to see Daddy in action.

Go Dada Go!

Impersonating the Chomp-Monster (another post entirely)

Entertaining a toddler for 10 hours in 90+ degree weather at a race track went much more smoothly than I had anticipated. I was most stressed about The Nap, but she slept soundly in the car-- and let me tell you, $20 in Suburban gas driving her around for that hour and a half was money well spent.

E had a blast seeing all the race cars and being the center of attention.

Of course, being this adorable is always a crowd pleaser.

Fueling up before the big race. Race cars now come standard with sippy cup-holders.

Drivers, report to your vehicles.

Last minute tech.

We had a great time watching you Daddy! We're proud of you!

Ok, so I guess this post didn't end up being entirely about Dad, but at least it started with good intentions, right?