Two years with a baby.

There are lots of things people tell you when you find out you're pregnant. They tell you their birth story, the choices they made for their baby and why you should choose the same. They tell about the local doctors and local hospitals. They tell you how they did it with no meds, by choice. (Yall is crazy. Please give me that epidural and let me feel like I peed on myself, then go numb. Ha! Kind of sounds like a night of wild drinking.) They tell you how much you will fall in love with that child. They are right. They tell you how you will never sleep again. They are also right..... But. There is a lot no one tells you. There is even more no one tells you about being a single mom. I am learning more and more everyday and one day I will compile a huge list of what I wish someone would have told me. But until then, this will have to do. 

Now before we get on a roll with this blog, let me say this. I am not trying to get any sympathy. I'm also not trying to get a pat on the back. I'm not looking for recognition. I'm also not talking about the other parent. This is nothing more than some funny, no more, no less. Now let get to going somewhere.

These are a list of some of the things I wish someone would have told me. 

No one tells you that a breastfeed babies poop looks like Dijon mustard. - I thought Harper had a disease. We went from black tar poop to Dijon mustard. Two way different end of the spectrum.

No one tells you that those cute little toys that light up, talk, and are supposed to be "educational" are going to talk at 2 am. No ones in your living room but you hear VTech Violet say "Come play with me, you're my best friend." No. No, Violet. No one wants to play with your creepy self. Goodwill donation item. Check. 

No one tells you to buy a drill. This one is for the single moms. You best have a drill and every other kind of electric tool you can buy. This past Christmas I sat in my kitchen from 9pm to 3am hand screwing together a laundry play set, a play vacuum, and a princess four wheeler. Never again. On my little girls last birthday, she got a swing set. If you're a single mom, do yourself a favor, hire someone to put that joker together. I sat in my back yard for 3 days putting this punk together. Now I have multiple parts left over and its leaning like the Tower of Pisa. We are not in Italy and it is not Italian/Pisa inspired. It sure does swing my little 2 year old good though! 

You will never be early again. If you're used to be 15 minutes early, you will arrive on time. If you are used to arriving on time, you will be 5 minutes late. If you are like me and chronically 5 minutes late, you will now be 30 minutes late. Get your family and friends to lie to you about when you need to be somewhere. 

You and yoga pants will become best friends for life. I don't do yoga. I don't even know anyone who does yoga. Check my closet. You would think I own a yoga studio. 

Your stainless steel will never be pretty again. Fingerprints, nutrigrain bars, formula, milk, juice, baby wipe juice, lipstick, Doritos, and anything else a child can get their hands on will now sparkle in the light on your stainless steel appliances. 

Single moms - if your child is in daycare and Father's Day rolls around, get ready for this cute conversation. 

Teacher - Ms. Single mom, I see on your child's paper work there is no information listed about their father. 

Single Mom (with an attitude) - I hope my child reads as good as you. 

Teacher - Who should I address Father's Day Crafts to? 

Luckily, Harper has some Uncles and a PaPa that are the bomb.com. 

The Real Housewives of whatever are liars. They are not real or housewives. Oxygen, Bravo, TLC, and any other reality television network, give me a show. I will show you real. Real is trying to pee while being a human jungle gym for a 2 year old, not sunbathing in St. Thomas while your nanny drives a Bentley to drop your kids off at school. 

You will lose a ton of "friends." It's amazing. Just watch. 

Go on and get a DVR. You will never get to watch your shows on time, quietly, ever again. 

All the rules your parents had for you, do not apply for the grandchild. My mom would give the brow (The brow is when Diane gets mad. Her eyebrow arches all the way up to heaven and comes back down. There is heavenly light shinning from her eyebrow arch. It's God saying, you may get called home early if you don't rethink your choices.) if i sat on a decorative pillow or made bed. Harper could stomp it, sit on it, then light it on fire and my mom would clap and cheer for her. Also, when you are trying to tell your child no and grandparents are around, be sure and tell them no too. They give in and take up for the baby. You have no allies in the grandparents. 

You will freak about everything. I remember, early one morning, when Harper was close to turning a year old. We were playing and she managed to nose dive into the side of my bed and then the floor. I picked her up and her nose was bleeding. She was screaming. I was still in my vintage Ole Miss Hoodie and moomoo. I looked like Don King and a meth head had had a baby. Mascara still on my face. I threw on yoga pants and some shoes and off to the emergency room we went. I knew Harper's sweet little nose was broke. We get to see the Dr., God Bless Dr. G at Regional, he is so patient and kind. He cleans her up and tells me it's rug burn. No broke nose. I'm relieved. Then I remember that the hospital will call DHS on unfit parents. Here comes another freak out. I ask him if he is going to report to DHS. He can tell I am ready to burst into tears. He just laughs and tells me no, I'm not the mom DHS is worries about, I just brought my child in to the ER for rug burn.... 

They all tell you how much you will love your baby when you finally get to hold that baby and look in to those sweet eyes and feel their tiny hand wrap around your finger. You are now wrapped around those tiny little fingers and there is nothing better. No matter how many times I was told of this love, I never understood. I'm so thankful for the Dijon Mustard poops, power tools, epidurals, the DVR, and most importantly, my little Harper Lee.