is booked.
10. Dear people who sat in our row after us, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the goldfish all shoved in between the seats where the airplane cleaners couldn’t get them. I’m sorry for the funky smell of my kid’s vomit that will probably linger for weeks. I’m sorry for the lollipop you may have found on page 46 of the Sky Mall magazine. And most of all I’m sorry you reached into your seat pocket and accidentally grabbed the rest of a mushy, slobbery, spit-covered banana that my kid put in there because he wouldn’t eat the brown spot. I meant to hand it to the flight attendant but I have like 9 million things I’m trying to remember when I get off the plane.
Well, that’s ten and I’m too lazy to write any more since this is practically a novel already, but God help you if your kid decides to flush the airplane toilet while she’s sitting on it. And God help you if your flight is delayed especially while you’re on the tarmac and they turn off the AC to conserve energy. And God help you if they lose your luggage and Binky the F’ing cuddle bear is packed in that suitcase. And God help you if your kid drinks the whole can of apple juice and it gives her the runs on the airplane seat. So basically just hope to God that God helps you because flying with rug rats is pretty much hell on earth. Or rather hell 10,000 feet above earth.
Minivan for the week: $650
One tank of gas: $60
Three tickets to Disney World: $277
Seeing my daughter’s face on the Teacups: priceless
You know those pregnancy tests that show a smiley face if you’re preggers? Do they have ones that show a frowny face for teenagers? Or for moms who already have kids and know what the F it’s like?
ME: Zoey, why didn’t you go to the potty? Why did you poop in your Pull-Up?
ZOEY: Well, I tooted and then I pushed and pushed and pushed and it just came out.
ME: Thanks Zoey. I’m so glad I know how a poop works now.
This one doesn’t have any pictures.
You’re welcome
You know the feeling. You’re standing in the middle of Gymboree walking around a parachute singing the Farmer in the Dell and wondering three things:
WTF is a dell?
Is this seriously what my life has come to?
Why does my kid have that weird look on his face?
Oh shit. Literally. You can read the signs from a mile away. The watery eyes, the vein popping out of his forehead, the look of determination. Yup, he’s pooping. OMG, kid, didn’t I just change your dipe dipe like thirty seconds ago? How many times can you poop in a day? And then about ten minutes later when Chippy McChipper is singing Gymbo the clown waves bye bye bye, your kid is finally done. Wait, nope, a little more. And now he’s done. Hopefully.
So it’s off to the public restroom you go with your adorable Petunia Picklebottom diaper bag only there’s really nothing adorable about this scenario. Because let’s face it, changing poopie diapers sucks ass.
From the moment they’re born to the moment they finally drop their first log in the potty (Mommmmm, wiiiiipe meeeee!), you’ll change over 3,000 poopie diapers. No, I didn’t say diapers. I said POOPIE diapers. And yes, I did the math. Unless you have one of those weird kids who only poops like once every four days, in which case I hate you and please stop reading this now because I refuse to entertain people like you.
So here goes. Ten poopie diaper scenarios that make me wish my kids were born without tushes. Awww shit, you know some jackass reading this is all pissed off now because some kids
are
born without tushes, and I’m an a-hole for making fun of them. Well, I apologize in advance to anyone whose kid doesn’t have a tush. Wait, no I don’t. I’ll trade ya.
1. Remember when your kid was a newborn and they pooped like a million times a day and you thought it was disgusting only it wasn’t really because they weren’t even eating solids yet and you had no idea what was coming in a few months? But then once in a while
10. Dear people who sat in our row after us, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for the goldfish all shoved in between the seats where the airplane cleaners couldn’t get them. I’m sorry for the funky smell of my kid’s vomit that will probably linger for weeks. I’m sorry for the lollipop you may have found on page 46 of the Sky Mall magazine. And most of all I’m sorry you reached into your seat pocket and accidentally grabbed the rest of a mushy, slobbery, spit-covered banana that my kid put in there because he wouldn’t eat the brown spot. I meant to hand it to the flight attendant but I have like 9 million things I’m trying to remember when I get off the plane.
Well, that’s ten and I’m too lazy to write any more since this is practically a novel already, but God help you if your kid decides to flush the airplane toilet while she’s sitting on it. And God help you if your flight is delayed especially while you’re on the tarmac and they turn off the AC to conserve energy. And God help you if they lose your luggage and Binky the F’ing cuddle bear is packed in that suitcase. And God help you if your kid drinks the whole can of apple juice and it gives her the runs on the airplane seat. So basically just hope to God that God helps you because flying with rug rats is pretty much hell on earth. Or rather hell 10,000 feet above earth.
Minivan for the week: $650
One tank of gas: $60
Three tickets to Disney World: $277
Seeing my daughter’s face on the Teacups: priceless
You know those pregnancy tests that show a smiley face if you’re preggers? Do they have ones that show a frowny face for teenagers? Or for moms who already have kids and know what the F it’s like?
ME: Zoey, why didn’t you go to the potty? Why did you poop in your Pull-Up?
ZOEY: Well, I tooted and then I pushed and pushed and pushed and it just came out.
ME: Thanks Zoey. I’m so glad I know how a poop works now.
This one doesn’t have any pictures.
You’re welcome
You know the feeling. You’re standing in the middle of Gymboree walking around a parachute singing the Farmer in the Dell and wondering three things:
WTF is a dell?
Is this seriously what my life has come to?
Why does my kid have that weird look on his face?
Oh shit. Literally. You can read the signs from a mile away. The watery eyes, the vein popping out of his forehead, the look of determination. Yup, he’s pooping. OMG, kid, didn’t I just change your dipe dipe like thirty seconds ago? How many times can you poop in a day? And then about ten minutes later when Chippy McChipper is singing Gymbo the clown waves bye bye bye, your kid is finally done. Wait, nope, a little more. And now he’s done. Hopefully.
So it’s off to the public restroom you go with your adorable Petunia Picklebottom diaper bag only there’s really nothing adorable about this scenario. Because let’s face it, changing poopie diapers sucks ass.
From the moment they’re born to the moment they finally drop their first log in the potty (Mommmmm, wiiiiipe meeeee!), you’ll change over 3,000 poopie diapers. No, I didn’t say diapers. I said POOPIE diapers. And yes, I did the math. Unless you have one of those weird kids who only poops like once every four days, in which case I hate you and please stop reading this now because I refuse to entertain people like you.
So here goes. Ten poopie diaper scenarios that make me wish my kids were born without tushes. Awww shit, you know some jackass reading this is all pissed off now because some kids
are
born without tushes, and I’m an a-hole for making fun of them. Well, I apologize in advance to anyone whose kid doesn’t have a tush. Wait, no I don’t. I’ll trade ya.
1. Remember when your kid was a newborn and they pooped like a million times a day and you thought it was disgusting only it wasn’t really because they weren’t even eating solids yet and you had no idea what was coming in a few months? But then once in a while
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