Expected vs Reality 2

Today's milestone is...

Learning to Talk

Expected vs Reality

In the course of parenthood, our child reaches many milestones. We rejoice that our child is capable of doing the same things every child has done since the beginning of mankind. Minus the humped backs and fur.

But, with every milestone comes consequences. We THINK we want our child to learn to walk. We THINK we want them to learn how to use the potty and wear underwear. But what we never anticipate in our blind optimism, is that when little Jr. learns to walk, that means he can use his legs, and that means he's going to use his legs to destroy, and pillage, and plunder. And while learning to pee on the potty is definitely a yay moment, the huge turd you found in Jr's closet after he ripped off his pullup is NOT a yay moment at all.

So, I will be posting a series of crappy, half-assed paint drawings to illustrate the expected reaction to certain milestones, and other happenings, vs the ACTUAL reaction to certain milestones, and other happenings, etc. etc.

I may post one at a time, or seven. I'm unpredictable like that. Here are the first two:
(click to make big)
(I made them too big. I will rectify this in the next post so you don't have to indulge my retardation by clicking.)

New baby




Learning to walk




Goodnight all. Remember to spay and neuter your pets, and use condoms.

Filler

I'll be making a post this evening. You can be assured that it will be fucking hilarious. Until then, here's a pic:





The doll deserved it.

Take 2

Hello. First post after renovation. If you're in any doubt about what this blog is now about, I shall clarify for you. This blog is about motherhood. REAL motherhood. Not the kind you see in paper towel commercials, where little Timmy makes a hideous mess, and the mom smiles indulgently about it, as if she's saying "Oh, you little TYKE. Now you clean that mess up. Hehe." *shoots her in the face*

Real motherhood is not blissful. And if that kid in the commercials were my kid, I'd be yelling and throwing paper towels at him until he cried. Real motherhood will make you feel like you're going fucking insane. And then your little cherub will turn around and do something sweet. And then you turn around again and there are M&Ms in the VCR, and there's shit in the hallway, and there's a brand new crayon mural in the kid's room, and there's toys strewn all over the house, and the phone is ringing, and someone's at the door, and your kid is currently trying to bathe in the toilet. And then the day ends, and you start all over again the next day.

Real motherhood will make you cry, scream, pull your hair out, and wish your child had a mute button.

I'm not one of those moms that acts like their kid was shat out of god's ass, and is the perfect little angel. Nor am I one of those mothers who feels "fulfilled" and "rewarded" by being a stay-at-home mom. I'm real. I fully admit my kid is a pain in the fucking ass. And being a stay-at-home mom is slowly sucking out my soul. So, if your another June Cleaver, you should probably leave. This blog isn't for you.

And now, to introduce you to the little princess.



This is Layla. She may look cute and sweet and innocent, but it's just a clever disguise to lull you into a false sense of security before she punches you in the eye, and runs your foot over with her bike.

Now, just to be clear, I love my daughter more than anything, but some days I want to loan her out to some unhappy, barren couple, so they won't feel so bad about not having kids. She'll cure you of that unhappiness in less than five minutes.

So I'll be bitching, ranting, sharing advice, drawing stupid pictures, and other stuff. And that's all I've got for now.