I used to have a PhD.
I even wrote a poem about it but lucky for you, I can’t find it.
Three kids in three years meant a mountain of diapers and my poor husband, he came home one day after one of those days and found me huddled up with this poem. The one about poop.
I told him I had an official Poop Handler’s Degree.
When you’ve cleaned it off of the baby’s clothes, your clothes, the floor, the chair, the toddler…whatever, and then repeated the whole cycle and taken care of the puppy’s, too, you get crowned with this distinction.
You probably have a PhD, dear reader. Congratulations.
So I changed a zillion diapers and the sheets, too. We changed houses, careers, curriculums, parenting tactics. We survived toddlerhood and I think we did pretty well.
And “they” used to always tell me, the way well-meaning people do, that it only gets harder. That babies change into big kids and into little adults and life won’t slow down for you.
They were right.
Our schedules have changed. It’s no longer about meal time and snack time and nap time and school time. Bed time is later and now it’s more about who-needs-to-be-where-and-when. I am not in control of every minute of their day anymore.
I used to have a PhD, but now I drive a taxi.
It used to be I was trying to get them to stay asleep, but now, just this morning, I’m waking my man-child up before dawn to go to work with dad. Not just-for-fun, but he will actually work and I can still see him waddling around in his diaper.
Two men kissed me good-bye this morning, and I couldn’t be happier.
{Join us at Lisa-Jo's for five minutes of writing joy. Today’s prompt is CHANGE, and I’m sure you can come up with some good stuff!}
