Are You Ready For Parenthood?

So occasionally I come across some little quiz or whatever “helping” people determine if they’re ready to become a parent. This is, of course, totally ridiculous, because there is no possible way anybody could ever be “ready” for the train wreck that is New Parenthood.

You can’t prepare for that. (Neither the joys nor the horrors.)

Go ahead, read BabyCenter and Parenting Magazine, buy all the books, let them lull you into a space of confidence and security…but get ready to fall EVEN HARDER once that kid comes and you realize they sold you LIES.

I repeat: there is no preparing for this.

There are, of course, our super over-achieving types who make spreadsheets to record poops and pees and have money coming out their ears and therefore buy all the gear and DO EVERYTHING PERFECTLY – but, in my experience, those are usually the people who suffer the most, especially when their kid turns out to be the most non-spreadsheet-adaptable human on the planet. Invariably, they end up with the kid that defies all logic, routine or reason.  They have the freaking nutjob baby who sleeps one hour a week and wails the rest of the time. (While watching Baby Einstein and doing flashcards, of course.) By the way, Baby Einstein is the only thing my baby would watch for more than 12 seconds…SCORE!

But if a checklist actually existed that may actually help people determine whether they are ready for day-to-day, on-the-ground parenthood, it would (in my [dark, twisted] opinion) look something like this:

Are you ready to be a parent? Let’s find out! Mark all the items on the below list that are true for you. If you choose 20 or more, you’re ready for parenthood!

I only like to sleep when other people tell me I can sleep.
I enjoy using the restroom in the company of others.
I like poop.
I like poop on my hands.
If I were to, say, find silly putty stuck between my bed sheets, I’d think it was cute.
My greatest pleasure in life is driving humans around in a hurry.
I believe money should be spent on character-building activities of questionable value and Starbucks.
Quarterly sex will suffice.
I enjoy receiving unsolicited advice from toothless women who smell like gin.
I also like it when they touch my belly.
I seek opportunities to engage in outrageously high-stakes activities for which I am totally underprepared.
If I could, I would wash approximately 12,000 garments a day.
I like guilt.
I like constant talking and a low hum of irritating, indecipherable noise.
I prefer my boobs closer to my knees.
When walking around my house barefoot, I throw food and small toys on the ground because I like the feel of them between my toes.
I prefer to work during vacations.
In restaurants, I like to walk around every four minutes and eat my food standing up while chasing a squirrel on crack.
My goal in life is to act every day exactly like my mother even though I think I’m not.
I’m okay with never seeing the floor of my car again.
I’m ready to want to stab myself in the eye with a toothpick on a sometimes hourly basis then somehow, at the end of the day, cry because I realize my life won’t always be like this.
In short, I’M READY FOR MADNESS.

Now why don’t they write THAT on BabyCenter?