Hey. You two. With the lovey-dovey nicknames and hands that seem magnetized to each other’s backsides. I have a bit of news for you. Right now, you’re enjoying the freedom of youth and childlessness. As you should be. Live it up. Live it up now.
Because someday, you’ll be just like me. Maybe not within the next five years, but probably within the next ten. No? You think you’re so different? You think you will forge a different path to parentdom? Maybe. But I doubt it. Few get by unscathed. If you think parenting is as hip as the celebs make it look in that glossy magazine you’re reading, then you’d better find out a way to get rich real quick.
Soon enough, you’ll be the one in yoga pants (today’s more fashionable sweat pants), dangling a baby off your hip while you stir Hamburger Helper with your free hand and kick a half-deflated beach ball across the scratched-up linoleum floor for your toddler to chase. Yes, if it were a dog, it would be called “fetch.” But, it’s your kid, so you call it “ball-a-rific” or some other fantastical name. Classy.
And yes, you’ll be the one with split-end infested hair thrown up in a sloppy bun sitting in the doctor’s office, trying to entertain your feverish baby while she screams uncontrollably and your bored toddler keeps asking (loudly) why “that lady standing in line has such a big bottom.” So proud.
And finally, believe it or not, you’ll one day be standing in line at Target, arguing with the cashier over a discount on diapers, causing quite a scene, when a young couple behind you will snicker and unabashedly roll their eyes. You’ll turn to them and say (with a forced smile), “This will be you someday.”
Oh yes, this will be you someday.