Inevitable Changes

I think my oldest son was about 6 months old when I discovered he would become entranced, if strapped in his car seat, with Barney for exactly 8.4379 minutes. Just long enough for me to shower. If I hurried.

Once, after I finished, I joined baby S to watch the rest of the episode. One of the little kids on the show had brought their baby twins in for show & tell (or something) and the whole gang joined around while Barney, in his very most tender voice, sang the “I love you” song.

And I cried. At Barney.

I should have realized at that point that my life would never be normal again.

Motherhood just changes a person. For example:

I no longer say normal words. Every word has an “ee” sound at the end. Somehow, adding this sound, every word suddenly becomes cute. There’s poop-ee and pee-pee and tumm-ee and bumm-ee and sweet-ee and bear-ee (for Bear) and p’jamm-ee(s). If I am not careful, I start talking to strangers this way, "Hello Sir, can you please look-ee at your little watch-ee and give me the time-ee, prett-ee please-ee?"

Thanks to my kids obsession with “That’s So Raven”, I have added the word “SNAP” to my vocabulary as an expression of frustration.

I wake up in the night with songs stuck in my head from Lazy Town, Hi-5, Phinius & Ferb's theme song, Fresh Beat Band, the latest Disney music video, Dora and lately, Enchanted.

If I find a doll that has been lost for a while, I worry more that the doll wasn’t with her “friends” than the fact that I just tore the room apart looking for it.

I say “dude” and “way” and "like" a lot more than a normal person ever should.

I assume each child's fears and anxieties. Everything from where to hide a favorite toy so a rough playmate won't reach it to memorizing a speech for a class. Five kids. That's alot of emotional luggage. See why we had to stop?

The weekends that all the boys go away for the Father & Son’s Campouts, I will stay up late watching Disney Channel Shows. Sometimes just because I didn’t catch it all earlier when the kids were watching.

Suddenly, popping my own pimples is not enough... I stare at my childrens' adolescent faces and wonder if I should even ask -- or beg -- just one. Please. Just that one?

I have grown to understand the reasoning behind my mom's song and dance routine (with an active water bottle) to wake us up in the mornings… I haven’t done it. I won’t do it. Must. Resist. Temptation.

I stash cookies in my drawer where only I will find them. Shameful. I know.

Extracting a splinter has become something of a personal mission -- a challenge between me and nature. I take it seriously. Maybe too seriously.

Yeah -- motherhood has certainly changed my life.  How about you?