- The cute aggression struggle is real. I love my kid so much that I genuinely worry I might eat her. You don't know affection until you find yourself gnawing on someone's limbs
Children hate being dressed. You'd think I were trying to outfit my daughter in pajamas coated in hydrofluoric acid. Like she were my very own Breaking Bad experiment. Every night before bed, I feel like I'm riding a damn bronco bull, what with the way she kicks and thrashes upon being confronted with -- gasp! -- clothes. It's perplexing. No matter how trying your pregnancy or how traumatic your birth experience, you'll inexplicably find yourself daydreaming about having a second (or third) kid. You'll catch your significant other and your child interacting in such a way that it makes your ovaries explode, and suddenly, you start viewing your strict birth control pill instructions as a light suggestion. When your child first becomes mobile, they will manage to hurt themselves in the most convoluted of ways and wind up looking like they're abused. I feel like I have to walk around with a note from Child Protective Services stapled to my kid's head, confirming that there is no mistreatment occurring in the home. And no, I'm not too sleep-deprived to recognize the irony in stapling your child's head in an attempt to deny abuse. I understand that it's "frowned upon." Kids want to eat everything... except, you know, food. Serve 'em up some of Bobby Flay's best filet mignon, and they'll turn their nose up. But offer them some lightly sautéed toilet paper, and they're totally game. The commencement of talking is both a blessing and a curse. It was one thing when she was speaking nonsense when I put her down for bed, and I could convince myself that she was just saying her nightly prayers. It's another entirely now that I can actually hear her pained voice yelling out my name. Thank God for headphones, am I right? Presentable is a relative term. "There's only a little spit-up on this shirt." "Messy buns are totes back in style." "My toenail is still 40% (!!!) covered in polish!" Breastfeeding is much harder than ever let on. Imagine how your nipples have been treated your entire life prior to children... and now imagine the exact opposite. Because that's how your child is going to treat them. The first few weeks of breastfeeding, I was appalled at the ravenous beast I had given birth to. It was as though she had just done a stint in the pokey and was champing at the bit to ingest something other than prison food. I used to cry out in pain at times, and she would just smile back at me -- my nipple being squashed between her devilish grin. If you've ever seen a car crusher pancake an automobile, you'll know what I'm talking about. Hell hath no fury like a child whose face and hands are being wiped down after a meal. You'd think the baby wipes were laced with anthrax and strychnine, the way they react. BP had an easier time trying to clean up the Gulf of Mexico. Despite all of their challenges, children are truly a blessing. Prior to my daughter, the best thing I had ever made was a slightly lopsided bowl in pottery class. And now? Now I can lay claim to this amazing -- albeit slightly crazy -- human. Something I'm quite grateful for...at least about 83% of the time.
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