I remember when Valentine’s Day was all about what I’d get (Tiffany’s). Where we’d eat (hottest new restaurant). What champagne we’d booze (Dom Perignon).
V-Day took a turn post kids. Lady Gaga wrote about a Bad Romance, but Good God, the woman’s, not even a mother. You want to know what a Bad Romance really is? It’s
Valentine’s Day everyday with little ones.
Here’s what Valentine’s Day looks like for the parents of babies & toddlers.
Dessert for Dinner
Valentine’s Day provides us with an excuse to have chocolate for breakfast, lunch, and dinner! Except that with a toddler, that’s actually what’s demanded everyday. When not provided, a tantrum ensues. Watch as they fall onto their knees and bang away, as the waterworks begin. Worst Mom Ever for not giving chocolate for all meals. Fine, honey, you want chocolate for every meal? Then we’ll have to work out extra hard to keep off the pounds.
Wet & Wild
How can you be romantic when most of your days revolve around who is going to clean the latest “blow-out?” God, to think I used to order fudgy lava cake for Valentine’s Day dinner dessert. Now, that’s what I wipe up with 1.375 packets of Whole Foods brand baby wipes in one damn go. Yum.
Dirty talk becomes potty talk when you have kids. If only I could laugh the way I do over potty humor in the scenarios, instead of finding myself on the brink of (another) mental and emotional breakdown.
- Holy SHIT, What the f*#$ did you eat? (oh yeah, 5 yogurts)
- He didn’t make it to the potty – bring me the bleach!
- What the f*#$ do you mean, we’re out of wipes?
- Can Mama finish dinner before you go poo-poo? (STUPID question)
Recently my husband and I actually got our Babywipe Smelling Selves out on a date downtown (here’s where you congratulate me)–only to be reminded what dinner downtown looks like: a three hour wait – no reservations accepted. Cool, cuz like, we got babysitters and I’m sure they won’t mind staying over night since like, we can’t even eat dinner for another few hours. No prob. Guess we’ll just get drunk at the bar and try to relish in not telling the other to clean up a pile of shit, right?
These days when I want a massage, I can usually get one on-demand! How? I simply lay my baby down and then face my back to his kickin’ little legs and let the kinks work out. He paddles around and around as if biking the Tour de France, and I get a one-in-ninety-eight kicks actually hitting a sore spot and helping.
Yes, the romance of getting down to your skivvies for breakfast. If by skivvies you mean diaper, (baby size for the kid, adult size for you).
To jumpstart your romance, spend a lot of time in bed. So like, go to bed at 8:30 p.m. (pass-out in your own drool) and wake up for the next feeding, round o’ tears, or cries for water.
When all is said and done, I wouldn’t have it any other way. The tears, the poop, the late nights. Hubby – I love you and wouldn’t want to wipe an ass with anyone but you. Happy Poopy Valentine’s Day, Honey.