Things I Miss About My Life, B.C. (Before Children)

Before anyone gets their knickers in a wad because they think I don't love my children enough let's get one thing straight...I love them. Madly. Even when they drive me mad and leave me teetering on top of the "Crazy-lady Mountain." I usually relent when I hear them yelling up from the bottom, "Mommmm, when you comin' down? We're hungry." They're boys. They're always hungry. I would fight a Grizzly bear for the little monsters and I would win too. 

Motherhood has been good for me. It settled me down, got my life organized, taught me what is really important and gave me something to love, more than myself. My children are my greatest contribution to this planet. Combine my efforts in raising them with my efforts in recycling paper, plastic, glass, and aluminum and I'd say I've banked some good-ass karma. Not that I'm keeping track. But, (there is always a but, even if it's my own butt, which in this case it is not) there are a few things I miss about Dani Before Children (B.C.) and I'll own them. Hell, I'm going to write 'em down...

1. A clean car. If you crawl around the backseat of my Yukon you are guaranteed to collect all the components of a Happy Meal with a myriad of "Made in China" toys to choose from. In my own defense of their eating habits might I add you could also find some peanuts and a shriveled up pickle. Kidding. About the peanuts.

2. Forget the car, I miss a clean house. B.C. I could clean it and revel for days in all the neat and tidy glory of a job well done. Now I'm happy if I clean the bathroom and go back five minutes later to NOT find pee on the seat they have been taught to lift. They're continued failure to comply may result in an installation of a "shock seat" similar to the training collars some use on dogs. Shut up, you're just mad you didn't think of it first. While I am on the bathroom shtick I may as well mention how much I miss the Playboys in the basket by the potty. I read all the articles. After I looked at all of the pictures.

3. Unedited music. There's nothing like hearing your four-year old Beastie Boy, in his booster seat singing, "The sheriff's after me for what I did to his daughter. I did it like this, I did it like that, I did it with a whiffle-ball bat." Yeah, that's what I want him singing on the playground. Even better, "You spin my head right round, right round, when you go down, when you go down down." Damn Alvin and the Chipmunks and damn the guy who had the furry little eff'ers sing it for the soundtrack too. It's not so cute from a ten year old boy with one lone armpit hair. By the way, I do not swear in front of my children which is probably why I do so freely here. It kinda feels like I'm being bad and that feels kinda good. Screw the radio edit versions. I like the naughty bits just not out of the mouths of my babes.

4. Expendable cash. Having kids will suck the cash right out of you. It's my own fault, in part. I know I really have no one to blame but myself. I spoil them rotten because their happiness is a powerful drug and I am hooked on it like a monkey on meth.

5. Uninterrupted showers. I thought once they could be entertained by a half hour of The Disney Channel I could shampoo, condition, exfoliate, shave, rinse, dry and moisturize (20 minutes) without one of them knocking on the door. That is, when and if they they knock. A perfectly good leg shave goes down the drain with one good blast of cold hallway air. This body that bore them is a temple and even temples need maintenance.

6. Uninterrupted phone conversations. This complaint is lodged on behalf of my non-child bearing sisters and brothers. It hasn't been so long ago that I have forgotten what it is like to be asked, as if you have a choice, to hold on while the parent deals with whatever "crisis" is at hand. Funny the way it is, these "crises" never happen until the parent is fully engaged in a conversation that does not include them. B.C I ended many a phone call in frustration that the parent wouldn't just stuff a sock in the blabbering kid's mouth. I was an a-hole. You CANNOT shut them up. It's impossible. Duct tape works but is frowned upon.

7. Sleeping naked. Long before there was any awareness of modesty in my children (I still haven't any) it became necessary to sleep with something on. You just never know when a child will wake and scream for you till you arrive just certain that the Boogie Man is about to carry them off. Hell if I am gonna give the Boogie Man a peek at my sweet treats. He's over a decade late for that sort of thing and I heard he was a cheap tipper anyway.

8. Sex with a soundtrack. This one should be pretty self explanatory. Need a visual? Admit you want one. Go ahead, no one will know. Okay, think silent movie with each frame being a picture worth a thousand words. Thank goodness for date nights that include five star hotels because no child should ever hear their parents bumpin' uglies, knockin' boots or knocking the pictures off the walls. Nuff  said?

I had intended for this to be a top ten list but I could make it twenty with a little more thought. At this point I'm going with the dad from that early eighties show and gonna say...Eight Is Enough.

I love my children. I love them madly. I wouldn't trade them for anything in the world.

And I wouldn't give two cents for another pair just like them.