I could never be that Octomom (who lived just a few blocks away, so I've seen insanity up close and personal). Parenting is SO HARD some days. I can't figure out why there isn't a single book on parenting with a chapter on preparing to get even. We all know that time will come. Our sanity as parents depends on knowing that there is a way to get back when we're at our wits end. You know, when the kid is 16, their eyeballs do 360's at a pace that no human would consider truly possible (without getting stuck - we all know that old addage) and, if sarcasm were an olympic sport, our kid would hold a record to rival Michael Phelps.
I was lucky. When Kevin was about two, I managed to think to grab the camera when he was sitting on his little potty chair wearing nothing more than a huge pink-edged sombrero and a grin. (I know, I'm going to the be Wal-Mart greeter of Hell for this one). There are days when I want to print out the photo on one of those iron-on decals and wear that t-shirt when I pick him up after a HUGE band competition, and maybe - oooooooh - after a football game. Then there's always the wedding reception slide show.
The fact that mere mention of the pink-edged sombrero tells me I'm right on track.
I rock. Bahahaha.
