In the trenches

Parenthood is often a mixture of dodging projectiles-- milk, food, or other-- , laughter, tears, and triumphs. I personally consider my form of parenting my own personal Blooper's reality TV show.
For example:

• One should never pull a diaper off a newly woken baby boy without having a cover handy. Yellow rain does not just mean our skies are too polluted, thank you!
• Having a newly fed baby "shake their bootay" after a full feeding will only result in laundry, mopping, and a disgruntled nursing mother.
• Poking a sleeping baby to make sure she's breathing will only get you an unhappy awake baby.
• Potty training requires plastic covered everything.
• Your baby will never sleep when you want her to. And she will never sleep when you do. They have internal sensors to tell them when you've just gotten into a really good, steamy dream and they will wake up at the most inopportune time possible.
• Loggins and Messina's "House on Pooh Corner" is necessary potty training music--sung by you, how ever many times it take Mr. Poopie to plop plop.
• No matter what food your child requests for dinner, it will yucky by the time it reaches the table.
• A parent should never potty train two boys simultaneously. Trust me. Bad idea.
• Bunk beds for young boys are just wrong and guaranteed to involve climbing and falling. Repeatedly.
• A urine dribble needs to be celebrated for at least five minutes.
• You will yell at your oldest to stop killing his brother at least once a day. And the minute you turn your back, the mayhem will resume.
• Forget about sex. They know you're doing it. They know what it results in. They don't want any more siblings and they certainly don't' want you to have a good time.
• And when all else fails, they will band together to wreak havoc in ways you've never even dreamed of, including, but not limited to: poo-poo painting, furniture sky diving, and the ingestion of foreign objects.