Truths to Read Before Having a Baby

Since becoming pregnant I have had quite a few friends, and even a few strangers, ask me about childbirth and being a mom - I am certainly no expert in either and am definitely winging it when it comes to pretty much everything I do except eating. That, I am an expert in. I know what I want and I know when I want it. I want some soup right now and I'm about to go make it to eat whilest I write this.

I think they come to me because they want the truth. The nitty gritty, real truth that they know they will get from me. One thing I am NOT is perfectly classy. One thing that I AM is frighteningly unfiltered. I have seen lists like this before but thought it would be fun to make my own. So here are the things to know before having a baby...or before having a momentary lapse of memory and having another :) (I'm talking to you Mrs. Duggar mom of 2,132 kids).

You are always going to be answering the same question. All day long. 
Brooks is about 19 months old, so he can say about 20 words and a few phrases. I was extremely lucky to have passed high school math and have a professor who allowed me to pass the college math class "math for non math majors," so I don't by any means expect Brooks to be a genius. But I also want to encourage him to learn new things. So when learning to talk we would constantly point to things and say "What's this?" Boy has that backfired on me. I counted about a week ago and by 7:44 a.m., Brooks had legitimately pointed to different things and asked the question "What's this?" 77 times. This is not an exaggeration. This is God having a jolly old time up in Heaven laughing at me as I slowly melt into a pile of mommy mush.

You will be cleaning up and changing some questionable things
I don't know if people would agree to creating a family if they knew the things that were coming out of the back end of their little miracles. I have changed some diapers and legitamately wondered if something had died. I watch everything that Brooks eats, and we eat pretty healthy, so I have no idea how some strawberries, cheerios and yogurt somehow forms to be a death bomb by 10 a.m., but they make it happen. When you breastfeed, their poops are somehow pretty much without smell. I guess this is God's way of saying congrats on giving them the mommy juice. What comes after, however, is 2 years of changing someone's poo and not getting anything in return.

You may not shower for days at a time. Washing your hair is now a luxury. You're going to look like a hot mess most of the time
You can just forget looking nice a good majority of the time. That ship has sailed. I am really, really lucky if I have on clean work out clothes, remembered to put on deodorant with my pregnancy mush of a brain, and by some Grace of God Brooks hasn't touched me so I remain unsticky. I love fashion. I really love clothes, accessories, and feeling like I look nice. I love to dress up and go out and socialize. If I'm going somewhere where I want to look like a decent human being and not a mom alien, I get Brooks fully dressed and almost out the door and remain completely naked until I know all I have to do is get him to the car. I've been fully dressed, hair done and been puked on. This is no longer my first rodeo. I've considered putting him in the garage to get ready until we leave but this seems a little harsh and there are some sharp things in there. If I decide to blow out my hair I am saying that there is going to be 20 minutes where I cannot directly watch his actions so I am just asking for a box of cheerios to be turned upside down or for him to strip off his diaper and poop in my closet. Yes this has really happened, and yes, it will probably happen again. I really like to wear my hair straight and this is apparently a consequence. I have actually at times gone a few days without a shower because I'm so sick of the consequences of leaving an 18 month old unattended in my locked room for 7 minutes and 29 seconds, but that's no good either. The hubby starts to sleep inches and inches further from me in bed every night and my skin starts to itch. That can't be good.

You are always going to be sticky.
I'm literally always sticky. Not like oh that scotch tape left some residue on my pointer finger, poo. Like, I just rolled around in Cinnabons covered with syrup and icing and walnuts for an hour and now I have to walk into Target and expect people to take me seriously. I knew babies were messy. I am the oldest of five kids. I was not oblivious to this notion. I just had no idea how bad it was going to be. Brooks also had terrible reflux, where they have a hard time keeping down their (liquid gold) breast milk, so he pretty much puked 30-40 times a day for his first entire year. Nobody can prepare you for this: yes, I love my child, but I just had no idea that almost every free and spare moment of my day would be spent peeling gummies off of the back seat of my car or cleaning up puke because he ate the 5 dove chocolates (and the foil) next to my bed while I was changing clothes (yes you could say this one is on me since I eat chocolate in bed. Woops). I don't know how Brooks gets as sticky as he does sometimes. I admit, I am not one of those moms walking around with a fanny pack of hand sanitizer or baby wipes, but I bath my child. At times I have picked him up and wondered if he found a vat of lollipops to bath in. Kids just have an ability to get really, ridiculously sticky.

Your body is never going to be the same again
Sure go ahead. Try that cleanse from Walgreens. Oh you've decided to pick up running? That's neat. Oh these are things that you think are going to get you back to the old you? Oh I see you. You can stop. Just stop there. Sit back down on the couch and enjoy your chick fil a the way God intended. Your body is never ever ever going to be the exact same. Ever. When things stretch that way, they can't just unstretch. It's over. That body I complained about in college? I would give up ANYYYTHING to have it back, even for a week. I would probably spend the whole week going to the grocery in my bikini, but it would be a glorious week. Your boobs are going to be very sad from now on. First they'll get ginormous. You'll think "Wow this is fun!" Then when you're done nursing, away they'll go. And all you'll be left with is sad pancakes you have to scoop in to your 34A bra you bought in the Juniors section of Wal Mart. My belly button seriously needs botox. It became an "outie" with Brooks and never really went back to it's former cute self. It just half hangs out now, as deflated as my boobs about 20 inches above. In between lies a stomach that screams "I try to work out but chocolate rules my life." Sometimes, when you drink that magic amount of wine (2 glasses for me), and you have on shiny lip gloss, and you're in a dark restroom at a dirty Mexican restaurant, with a margarita under your belt, you'll think "there I am," and you'll feel you're back. But you're not. Too bad I can't have the one margarita feeling all the time.

How many kids do you want again?
Disclaimer: I do love my little nugget. He was all worth it :) And having a child makes your husband even hunkier! I just like to joke about all the stickiness and loose belly buttons.