Fifteen Lessons to Prepare You for Parenthood

by admin

Fifteen Lessons to Prepare You for Parenthood

I read this via email and would love to know who the author is! I laughed till I was holding my sides and tears streamed down my face. I had to share this with you all—I’m sure you can relate!

Lesson One:
Go home. Pick up the paper. Read it for the last time.

Lesson Two:
Before you finally go ahead and have children, find a couple who already are parents and berate them about their:

  • Methods of discipline.
  • Lack of patience.
  • Appallingly low tolerance levels.
  • Allowing their children to run wild.
  • Suggest ways in which they might improve their child’s breastfeeding, sleep habits, toilet training, table manners, and overall behavior.

Enjoy it, because it will be the last time in your life you will have all the answers.

Lesson Three:
To discover how the nights will feel …Walk around the living room from 5 p.m. to 10 p.m. carrying a wet bag weighing approximately eight to twelve pounds, with a radio turned to static (or some other obnoxious sound) playing loudly. At 10 p.m., put the bag down, set the alarm for midnight, and go to sleep.

Get up at 12 a.m. and walk around the living room again, with the bag, until 1 a.m. Set the alarm for 3 a.m. As you can’t get back to sleep, get up at 2 a.m. and make a drink.

Go to bed at 2:45 a.m.

Get up at 3 a.m. when the alarm goes off.

Sing songs in the dark until 4 a.m.

Get up. Make breakfast. Keep this up for five years.

Look cheerful.

Lesson Four:
Can you stand the mess children make? To find out … Smear peanut butter onto the sofa and jam onto the curtains.

Hide a piece of raw chicken behind the stereo and leave it there all summer.

Stick your fingers in the flower bed. Then rub them on the clean walls.

Cover the stains with crayons. How does that look?

Lesson Five:
Dressing small children is not as easy as it seems.

Buy an octopus and a small bag made out of loose mesh.

Attempt to put the octopus into the bag so that none of the arms hang out.

Time allowed for this—all morning.

Lesson Six:
Take an egg carton. Using a pair of scissors and a jar of paint, turn it into an alligator.

Now take the tube from a roll of toilet paper. Using only Scotch tape and a piece of aluminum foil, turn it into an attractive Christmas candle.

Last, take a milk carton, a ping-pong ball, and an empty packet of Cocoa Puffs.

Make an exact replica of the Eiffel Tower.

Lesson Seven:
Forget the BMW and buy a mini-van. And don’t think that you can leave it out in the driveway spotless and shining. Family cars don’t look like that. Buy a chocolate ice cream cone and put it in the glove compartment. Leave it there.

Get a dime. Stick it in the CD player.

Take a family size package of chocolate cookies. Mash them into the back seat.

Run a garden rake along both sides of the car.

There. Perfect.

Lesson Eight:
Get ready to go out. Wait outside the bathroom for half an hour.

Go out the front door.

Come in again.

Go out.

Come back in.

Go out again.

Walk down the front path.

Walk back up it.

Walk down it again.

Walk very slowly down the road for five minutes.

Stop, inspect minutely, and ask at least six questions about every cigarette butt, piece of used chewing gum, dirty tissue, and dead insect along the way.

Retrace your steps.

Scream that you have had as much as you can stand until the neighbors come out and stare at you.

Give up and go back into the house.

You are now just about ready to try taking a small child for a walk.

Lesson Nine:
Repeat everything at least (if not more than) five times.

Lesson Ten:
Go to the local grocery store. Take with you the closest thing you can find to a pre-school child. (A full- grown goat is excellent).

If you intend to have more than one child, take more than one goat.

Buy your week’s groceries without letting the goats out of your sight. Pay for everything the goat eats or destroys.

Until you can easily accomplish this, do not even contemplate having children.

Lesson Eleven:
Hollow out a melon.

Make a small hole in the side.

Suspend it from the ceiling and swing it from side to side.

Now get a bowl of soggy Cheerios and attempt to spoon them into the swaying melon by pretending to be an airplane.

Continue until half the Cheerios are gone.

Tip half into your lap. The other half, just throw up in the air.

You are now ready to feed a nine-month old baby.

Lesson Twelve:
Learn the names of every character from Sesame Street, Barney, Disney, the Teletubbies, and Pokemon. Watch nothing else on TV for at least five years.

Lesson Thirteen:
Move to the tropics. Find or make a compost pile. Dig down about halfway and stick your nose in it. Do this three-to-five times a day for at least two years.

Lesson Fourteen:
Make a recording of Fran Drescher saying “mommy” repeatedly. (Important: no more than a four second delay between each “mommy;” occasional crescendo to the level of a supersonic jet is required). Play this tape in your car everywhere you go for the next four years.

You are now ready to take a long trip with a toddler.

Lesson Fifteen:
Start talking to an adult of your choice. Have someone else continually tug on your skirt hem, shirt-sleeve, or elbow while playing the “mommy” tape made from Lesson Fourteen above. You are now ready to have a conversation with an adult while there is a child in the room.