Before I was a Mom -
I never tripped over toys or forgot words to a lullaby.
I didn't worry whether or not my plants were poisonous.
I never thought about immunizations.
Before I was a Mom -
I had never been puked on.
Pooped on.
Chewed on.
Peed on.
I had complete control of my mind and my thoughts.
I slept all night.
Before I was a Mom -
I never held down a screaming child so doctors could do tests.
Or give shots.
I never looked into teary eyes and cried.
I never got gloriously happy over a simple grin.
I never sat up late hours at night watching a baby sleep.
Before I was a Mom -
I never held a sleeping baby just because I didn't want to put them down.
I never felt my heart break into a million pieces when I couldn't stop the hurt.
I never knew that something so small could affect my life so much.
I never knew that I could love someone so much.
I never knew I would love being a Mom.
Before I was a Mom -
I didn't know the feeling of having my heart outside my body.
I didn't know how special it could feel to feed a hungry baby.
I didn't know that bond between a mother and her child.
I didn't know that something so small could make me feel so important and happy.
Before I was a Mom -
I had never gotten up in the middle of the night every 10 minutes to make sure all was okay.
I had never known the warmth, the joy, the love, the heartache, the wonderment or the satisfaction of being a Mom.
I didn't know I was capable of feeling so much, before I was a Mom.
*Thanks for the lovely poem E.! www.crustybeef.blogspot.com*
Showing posts with label Motherhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Motherhood. Show all posts
5.10.2007
5.09.2007
4.06.2007
Fw: Learning to Cuss
A 6 year-old and 4 year-old are upstairs in their bedroom.
"You know what?" says the 6 year-old. "I think it's about time we started cussing."
The 4 year-old nods his head in approval. The 6 year -old continues, "When we go downstairs for breakfast, I'm gonna say something with 'hell' and you say something with 'ass.' "
The 4 year-old agrees with enthusiasm. When their mother walks into the kitchen and asks the 6 year-old what he wants for breakfast, he replies, "Aw hell Mom, I guess I'll have some Cheerios."
Whack! He flies out of his chair, tumbles across the kitchen floor, gets up, and runs upstairs crying his eyes out with his mother in hot pursuit, slapping his rear with every step. She locks him in his room and shouts, "You can stay in there until I let you out."
She then comes back downstairs, looks at the 4 year-old and asks with a stern voice, "And what do YOU want for breakfast, young man?
"I don't know," he blubbers, "but you can bet your fat ass it won't be Cheerios!"
*Thanks for the forward Bronwyn! Frankfort, Kentucky*
"You know what?" says the 6 year-old. "I think it's about time we started cussing."
The 4 year-old nods his head in approval. The 6 year -old continues, "When we go downstairs for breakfast, I'm gonna say something with 'hell' and you say something with 'ass.' "
The 4 year-old agrees with enthusiasm. When their mother walks into the kitchen and asks the 6 year-old what he wants for breakfast, he replies, "Aw hell Mom, I guess I'll have some Cheerios."
Whack! He flies out of his chair, tumbles across the kitchen floor, gets up, and runs upstairs crying his eyes out with his mother in hot pursuit, slapping his rear with every step. She locks him in his room and shouts, "You can stay in there until I let you out."
She then comes back downstairs, looks at the 4 year-old and asks with a stern voice, "And what do YOU want for breakfast, young man?
"I don't know," he blubbers, "but you can bet your fat ass it won't be Cheerios!"
*Thanks for the forward Bronwyn! Frankfort, Kentucky*
3.30.2007
Fw: Two Choices...
Life decisions that people have to make are never simple. The importance of the initial decision should always be examined over the long run. Memories made and cherished are sure to be tempered along the way. Consider the following two choices...
-
Should I get a Dog ....
-
Or have children?-
*Tough decision! Thanks Jeaneen! Baton Rouge, Louisiana*
*Tough decision! Thanks Jeaneen! Baton Rouge, Louisiana*2.19.2007
Fw: Nominated as the Best Short Joke
A three-year-old boy was examining his testicles while taking a bath.
"Mom", he asked, "are these my brains?"
"Not yet honey. Not yet," she replied.
"Mom", he asked, "are these my brains?"
"Not yet honey. Not yet," she replied.
10.13.2006
Lizard Birthing
If you have raised kids (or been one), and gone through the pet syndrome including toilet flush burials for dead goldfish, the story below will have you laughing out LOUD!
Overview: I had to take my son's lizard to the vet.
Here's what happened:
Just after dinner one night, my son came up to tell me there was "something wrong" with one of the two lizards he holds prisoner in his room.
"He's just lying there looking sick," he told me. "I'm serious dad, can you help?"
I put my best lizard-healer statement on my face and followed him into his bedroom. One of the little lizards was indeed lying on his back, looking stressed. I immediately knew what to do.
"Honey," I called, " come look at the lizard!"
"Oh my! gosh," my wife diagnosed after a minute. "She's having babies."
"What?" my son demanded. "But their names are Bert and Ernie, Mom!"
I was equally outraged.
"Hey, how can that be? I thought we said we didn't want them to reproduce," I accused my wife.
"Well, what do you want me to do, post a sign in their cage?" she inquired. (I actually think she said this sarcastically!)
"No, but you were supposed to get two boys!" I reminded her, (in my most loving, calm, sweet voice, while gritting my teeth together).
"Yeah, Bert and Ernie!" my son agreed.
"Well, it's just a little hard to tell on some guys, you know," she informed me. (again with the sarcasm, you think?)
By now the rest of the family had gathered to see what was going on. I shrugged, deciding to make the best of it.
"Kids, this is going to be a wondrous experience, I announced.
"We're about to witness the miracle of birth."
"Oh, gross!" they shrieked.
"Well, isn't THAT just great! What are we going to do with a litter of tiny little lizard babies?" my wife wanted to know. (I really do think she was being snotty here, too. Don't you?)
We peered at the patient. After much struggling, what looked like a tiny foot would appear briefly, vanishing a scant second later.
"We don't appear to be making much progress," I noted. "It's breech," my wife whispered, horrified.
"Do something, Dad!" my son urged.
"Okay, okay." Squeamishly , I reached in and grabbed the foot when it next appeared, giving it a gentle tug. It disappeared. I tried several more times with the same results.
"Should I call 911," my eldest daughter wanted to know. "Maybe they could talk us through the trauma." (You see a pattern here with the females in my house?)
"Let's get Ernie to the vet," I said grimly. We drove to the vet with my son holding the cage in his lap. "Breathe, Ernie, breathe," he urged.
"I don't think lizards do Lamaze," his mother noted to him. (Women can be so cruel to their own young. I mean what she does to me is one thing, but this boy is of her womb, for God's sake.)
The Vet took Ernie back to the examining room and peered at the little animal through a magnifying glass.
"What do you think, Doc, a C-section?" I suggested scientifically.
"Oh, very interesting," he murmured. "Mr. and Mrs. Cameron, may I speak to you privately for a moment?"
I gulped, nodding for my son to step outside.
"Is Ernie going to be okay?" my wife asked.
"Oh, perfectly," the Vet assured us. "This lizard is not in labor. In fact, that isn't EVER going to happen... Ernie is a boy. You see, Ernie is a young male. And occasionally, as they come into maturity, like most male species, they um.... um.... masturbate. Just the way he did, lying on his back." He blushed, glancing at my wife.
"Well, you know what I'm saying, Mr. Cameron."
We were silent, absorbing this.
"So Ernie's just... just... excited," my wife offered.
"Exactly," the vet replied, relieved that we understood.
More silence. Then my viscous, cruel wife started to giggle. And giggle.
And then even laugh loudly.
"What's so funny?" I demanded, knowing, but not believing that the woman I married would commit the upcoming affront to my flawless manliness.
Tears were now running down her face. Laughing "It's just... that... I'm picturing you pulling on its... its... teeny little..." she gasped for more air to bellow in laughter once more.
"That's enough," I warned. We thanked the Vet and hurriedly bundled the lizard and our son back into the car. He was glad everything was going to be okay.
"I know Ernie's really thankful for what you've done, Dad," he told me.
"Oh, you have NO idea,"
Closed mouth, my wife agreed, collapsing with laughter.
1 - Lizards - $140...
2 - Cage - $50...
3 - Trip to the Vet - $30...
4 - Memory of your husband pulling on a lizard's winkie..... Priceless
Moral of the story - finish biology class - lizards lay eggs
Overview: I had to take my son's lizard to the vet.
Here's what happened:
Just after dinner one night, my son came up to tell me there was "something wrong" with one of the two lizards he holds prisoner in his room.
"He's just lying there looking sick," he told me. "I'm serious dad, can you help?"
I put my best lizard-healer statement on my face and followed him into his bedroom. One of the little lizards was indeed lying on his back, looking stressed. I immediately knew what to do.
"Honey," I called, " come look at the lizard!"
"Oh my! gosh," my wife diagnosed after a minute. "She's having babies."
"What?" my son demanded. "But their names are Bert and Ernie, Mom!"
I was equally outraged.
"Hey, how can that be? I thought we said we didn't want them to reproduce," I accused my wife.
"Well, what do you want me to do, post a sign in their cage?" she inquired. (I actually think she said this sarcastically!)
"No, but you were supposed to get two boys!" I reminded her, (in my most loving, calm, sweet voice, while gritting my teeth together).
"Yeah, Bert and Ernie!" my son agreed.
"Well, it's just a little hard to tell on some guys, you know," she informed me. (again with the sarcasm, you think?)
By now the rest of the family had gathered to see what was going on. I shrugged, deciding to make the best of it.
"Kids, this is going to be a wondrous experience, I announced.
"We're about to witness the miracle of birth."
"Oh, gross!" they shrieked.
"Well, isn't THAT just great! What are we going to do with a litter of tiny little lizard babies?" my wife wanted to know. (I really do think she was being snotty here, too. Don't you?)
We peered at the patient. After much struggling, what looked like a tiny foot would appear briefly, vanishing a scant second later.
"We don't appear to be making much progress," I noted. "It's breech," my wife whispered, horrified.
"Do something, Dad!" my son urged.
"Okay, okay." Squeamishly , I reached in and grabbed the foot when it next appeared, giving it a gentle tug. It disappeared. I tried several more times with the same results.
"Should I call 911," my eldest daughter wanted to know. "Maybe they could talk us through the trauma." (You see a pattern here with the females in my house?)
"Let's get Ernie to the vet," I said grimly. We drove to the vet with my son holding the cage in his lap. "Breathe, Ernie, breathe," he urged.
"I don't think lizards do Lamaze," his mother noted to him. (Women can be so cruel to their own young. I mean what she does to me is one thing, but this boy is of her womb, for God's sake.)
The Vet took Ernie back to the examining room and peered at the little animal through a magnifying glass.
"What do you think, Doc, a C-section?" I suggested scientifically.
"Oh, very interesting," he murmured. "Mr. and Mrs. Cameron, may I speak to you privately for a moment?"
I gulped, nodding for my son to step outside.
"Is Ernie going to be okay?" my wife asked.
"Oh, perfectly," the Vet assured us. "This lizard is not in labor. In fact, that isn't EVER going to happen... Ernie is a boy. You see, Ernie is a young male. And occasionally, as they come into maturity, like most male species, they um.... um.... masturbate. Just the way he did, lying on his back." He blushed, glancing at my wife.
"Well, you know what I'm saying, Mr. Cameron."
We were silent, absorbing this.
"So Ernie's just... just... excited," my wife offered.
"Exactly," the vet replied, relieved that we understood.
More silence. Then my viscous, cruel wife started to giggle. And giggle.
And then even laugh loudly.
"What's so funny?" I demanded, knowing, but not believing that the woman I married would commit the upcoming affront to my flawless manliness.
Tears were now running down her face. Laughing "It's just... that... I'm picturing you pulling on its... its... teeny little..." she gasped for more air to bellow in laughter once more.
"That's enough," I warned. We thanked the Vet and hurriedly bundled the lizard and our son back into the car. He was glad everything was going to be okay.
"I know Ernie's really thankful for what you've done, Dad," he told me.
"Oh, you have NO idea,"
Closed mouth, my wife agreed, collapsing with laughter.
1 - Lizards - $140...
2 - Cage - $50...
3 - Trip to the Vet - $30...
4 - Memory of your husband pulling on a lizard's winkie..... Priceless
Moral of the story - finish biology class - lizards lay eggs
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