Monday, April 1, 2013


My name is Susann and I'm a B+ parent.

On a good day.

I feed my kid non-organic Costco milk because its cheaper.

I dress my daughter in the next day's outfit at bedtime to save five minutes in the morning.

I rely on Backyardigans reruns more than I should.

I let my son reject veggies, or figure if he's dipping into guacamole with that tortilla chip, it counts as a veggie.  Especially if there's a little tomato in there... right?

I wear my hair in a ponytail every day.  I've been known to wear yoga pants to work.

I buy his shoes on Zulily and clothes at Costco.

I readily and happily accept hand-me downs.

I quit breastfeeding after 11 weeks, and 12 weeks respectively and never looked back.

I squeezed my daughter into size 1 diapers for a few weeks too long, because geez, I had a huge case!

I tell him to "shake it off" when he falls down.

I notice after a few days that sour milk smell isn't my daughter's clothes, it's her neck cheese.

I put her in the bouncy seat too often, and claim it is so she doesn't get trampled by the toddler.

I don't brush his teeth nightly.  I'm lucky if it gets done 2-3 times a week.

I rely on frozen turkey meatballs, bananas, and Annie's mac and cheese.  Daily.

I pass off the Easter basket from school as my own.  One less thing to do.

I pass on $250 music classes.  That's three months worth of diapers!

I've only taken a kid to one "sick" doctor appointment in the last 19 months.

I have to plan every bit of the weekend because it becomes overwhelming.

I put my children in daycare even when I have the day off.

I sing or yell loudly in the car when we are driving home from somewhere a little too close to naptime, because five minutes in the car can ruin that precious two hours of quiet.

I rarely cook dinner for the family anymore.  When I do, Shawn eats it.

I use bottles when he throws the sippy cup out of the crib for the 500th time.

I shower at work sometimes without even going to the gym, just to get 10 minutes of quiet.

I sometimes look forward to Mondays.

I get frustrated.

I get overwhelmed.

But I love that smell of neck cheese.

I revel in watching the Robster run laps in his crib because I may have put him to bed a little too early.

I'm proud when I see him put together puzzles and build towers.

When she figures out how to hold and shake the winkle.

When he figures out what kisses are.  And even better, what hugs are.

When she turns her head when she hears my voice.

When other parents compliment his spoon holding skills.

I can tell the subtle nuances between toddler versions of the words ball, book, balloon, shoes, socks, berries, apples.  Head or hat.  TEETH.

I love that he copies dance moves he sees on his kiddie shows.

That he smiles and plays peekaboo with strangers.

That he responds to the question "Who's number one" with one finger in the air.

I'm a B+ parent.

And that's ok by me.

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