Signs Of Advanced Momhood

Maybe it starts when you realize rock concerts give you a headache.  Or that you're offering to cut up other people's food.  Or you catch yourself ending a discussion with, "Because I'm the Mother, that's why!"

You've reached a new level of motherhood.  All the warning signs are there.   You know you've crossed the threshold into advanced "Mommydom" when:

You count the sprinkles on each kid's
cupcake to make sure they're equal.

You want to take out a contract on the kid
who broke your son's favorite toy car
and made him cry.

You have time to shave only one leg at a time.

You hide in the bathroom to be alone.

Your child throws up and you catch it.


Someone else's kid throws up at a party
and you keep eating.

You consider finger paint to be a
controlled substance.

You've mastered the art
of placing large quantities
of pancakes and eggs on a plate
without anything touching.

Your child insists that you read
"Once Upon A Potty"
out loud in the lobby
of Grand Central Terminal,
and you do it!

You hope ketchup is a vegetable
because it's the only one your child eats.

You can't bear the thought of your son's
first girlfriend.


You hate the thought of his wife even more.

You find yourself cutting
your husband's sandwiches
into unusual shapes.

You fast-forward through the scene
when the hunter shoots Bambi's mother.

You become a member of three aquariums
because your kid loves sharks.

You obsess when your child clings to you
upon parting during his first month at school,
then obsess when he skips in
without looking back the second time.

You can't bear to give away baby clothes ...
it's so final.


You hear your mother's voice
coming out of your mouth when you say,
"NOT in your good clothes!"

You stop criticizing the way
your mother raised you.

You lose sleep.

You use your own saliva
to clean your child's face.

You read that the average five-year-old asks
437 questions a day and
feel proud that your kid is "above average."

You hire a sitter because you haven't been out
with your husband in ages,
then spend half the night checking on the kids.

You say at least once a day,
"I'm not cut out for this job,"
but you know
you wouldn't trade it for anything!

~ Liane Kupferberg Carter ~
Reprinted with permission


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