How Come?

Things I don’t understand:

      Why egg pans are round and egg turners are square.

       Why there are signs on entrances that say:

               “Seeing eye dogs allowed.”

       Who is that for?
       Why they say “sleep like a baby” when anyone who has ever had one knows what a joke THAT is.
       Why people that have plastic bags pulled over their heads on television dramas don’t just pop an air hole at their mouths and then turn around and knee their attacker.
       Where the HELL that shoe comes from that I see in the middle of the road.  WHOSE shoe is that and what happened when they got home.  Did they open the door of the car, go to get out and say:
                         “OH – WHOA—Man, I lost my shoe!”

I don’t understand:
       Why the inside of my washing machine AND the inside of my dishwasher BOTH get dirty.  Don’t they get cleaned every stinking time I run the machine?

       Why my husband thinks that just because he helps more than his dad did that he

                       “Helps out a lot around here.”

        Why a clean diaper is like pulling into a gas station and saying to the attendant:

                            “Fill ‘er up!”
I don’t get why:

        Me being PTO President and spending hundreds of hours at my son’s school didn’t impact my youngest son’s teacher’s decision, ONE FREAKIN’ IOTA,  when it came time to send him to see the assistant principal after only 13 days of the new school year.  Can’t I get a TINY, LITTLE, BREAK HERE? JUST A LITTLE ONE?

        I can give my boys  a hot cooked meal every night yet when the teacher asks them what they eat for dinner they say chicken nuggets and french fries.

 How come:

       My kids act like they’ve just gotten struck from behind by a shovel when I tell them to take a shower. 

       A second baby is not just twice the work.  That little baby seems to take 100 times the effort he/she ought to.

       I felt guilty when the nurses took my first baby from me in the hospital and by the fourth I was buzzing the nurse to come:

                  “Because Danny misses the other kids”.

I can’t figure out why:

       Women that stay home feel guilty they aren’t working and women that are working feel guilty they aren’t staying home.

       Why I’m supposed to understand and handle puberty when they cannot understand and handle PMS.

       Why sleeping men HARDLY EVER hear the babies cry. 

       Why sleeping men HARDLY EVER hear kids throwing up, or breathing with colic, or women going into labor. 

       Why my husband ALWAYS heard me moan when I was nine months pregnant with a 10 pound baby saying the next morning:

                             “You kept me up all night.”

And how come:

         I never used to cry when I listened to the news.

         I never used to donate to the Children’s Hospital or appreciate the work of Marlo Thomas and her dad.

         I didn’t ever see all those pregnant ladies that are ALL over the place.

         I didn’t pat a mom having a hard day on the back and tell her to hang in.  I just passed judgment that:

                               “She wasn’t ready for kids.”

         I get pissed that they’ve labeled her the “Octomom.”  Yes, I think she’s going to be in terrible trouble, has incredible issues, and is perhaps in need of psychological help, but must we create an image that rivals a “Spiderman” Movie in order to humiliate her. 

         I never noticed that the wind in a babies face makes them smile, even if they don’t want to.

I don’t know why: 

         I never realized how brilliant my husband’s blue eyes were until I saw them in my boys.

         I never fell to my knees thanking GOD for what He’s given us, before I had children.

         I never used to offer my help to a mom in line with a fussy child.  I do it all the time now, but never even thought of it before my boys.

         I never understood how my mom could forgive my brother AGAIN, AND AGAIN, AND AGAIN.

       I realize now:

          That regardless of what I’ve accomplished personally, the GREATEST way I will impact the next generation is through my children.

How come:
          I get this now and not 12 years ago?  There are really only four reasons I can think of.

Thank You Gentlemen:  for making everything so much clearer.

Parenting Tip of the Day: 

Don’t listen to people who tell you that holding your baby will spoil them.  You hold them every second you want to.  You’ll know if they’re getting spoiled.  It is certainly NOT going to be because you love them too much.  When you turn that love into giving them too much, then you need to step back.  Too many hugs never hurt anyone.


8 responses to “How Come?

  1. hey D–so cool to hear from you. Thanks for the note–I have to explore your site–sculptor. I wish I could call myself something that neat!

  2. I love everything you said. Especially

    I never noticed that the wind in a babies face makes them smile, even if they don’t want to.

    So beautiful.

  3. Oh Sunny-I think you’re right!

  4. Great post love it!!!

    As for the parenting tip: I totally agree you do not spoil kids by holding them too much. I hold Tooters as much as I can before she gets to big. I even rock her to sleep a couple of times a week like I did when she was a baby. I sit and look at her sweet little face and the little arms wrapped around me trying not to cry because I know this time with her on my lap like that is almost over. So I say to heck with those ppl, hold, love, and smother the kids with hugs and kisses all you can. I think the world would be a better calmer place if we all had that much love shown to us. Just remember to continue it as long as you can.

  5. I know you wouldn’t. You are creating a world of joy for them. Lucky boys!

  6. Very sweet, D! I’m so much more attuned to struggling moms now that I am one! I often wish I could take a break -i.e. send them to boarding school – but in all reality I wouldn’t change it for the world!

  7. Kathy–so good to see you. I’m glad you read this today!

  8. Yes! I laughed at the funny ones and was touched by the sweet ones, and agree with all of them.

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