We all have a list like this, right? The things that made us roll our eyes with righteous indignation, elbow our friends and hiss, “Look. Look at that. I’ll never do that when I have kids.”

Riiiight. Feast your eyes on my shattered parenting ideals, people. I said I would never …

… Let my kid rule my schedule. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. I spend a good portion of my day in nap jail. I can’t do a damn thing outside the house because one or both of my kids are napping. When the baby doesn’t nap, the baby doesn’t sleep at night. When the baby doesn’t sleep at night, mama doesn’t sleep at night. And if I’m not going to sleep, it better be for a good reason — sickness, teething, developmental crap. A skipped nap? Rarely worth it.

… Drive my kid around aimlessly to get him to sleep. So wasteful! All of that gas! Yeeeeeah. Sorry, Mother Earth. It’s my last resort, but I still do this sometimes. And you better believe I am getting a milkshake at McDonald’s for my trouble.

… Let my kid wear obnoxious character clothing. “My child will wear classic clothing! Stripes! Solids! Perhaps a cute animal, but NO CHARACTERS!” Does this sound familiar? Heh. Yeah. Let me describe how my child’s eyes lit up the first time he got a shirt with Thomas the Train on it. It was poetic. And so began our slow descent into the character-clothing abyss. My kid will even have Lightning McQueen on his butt … if he ever actually decides to wear underwear.

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Left: The king of the character clothing (why yes, that is “Planes” underwear on his head). Right: Happily chomping on toys that hit the grocery store floor so many times I lost count.

… Let my kid watch movies and play with the iPad in the car. I mean, duh. Instead of rotting his brain, my child would happily daydream in his comfy seat. He would look at books, enjoy the scenery, and drift off to sleep after a pleasant pit stop at the state line. Bwahahahahaha. All hail the iPad, provider of peace, harbinger of harmony.

… Let my kid watch anything but PBS. I pretty much grew up on PBS. “Sesame Street” and “3-2-1 Contact” and the like. I liked to think it was because I was being groomed for greater things in life. HAHAHA. More like, that’s what I watched because that’s all there was. Now my kid can ask for the most obscure, obnoxious cartoon on demand (ahem, “Tayo the Little Bus,” ahem). And he does. Frequently.

… Let my kid keep me from traveling. Actually, I’ve done a fair amount of traveling with kids, but no serious globe-trotting. Sharing a hotel room with a baby and a toddler is a joy… said no one ever. Maybe one day when we’re all a little more flexible. Until then, the beach and grandma’s house will probably be the height of our travel ambitions.

… Use spit to wipe off my kid’s face. My mom did this to me until an embarrassingly advanced age. Moooooom! Stop! And I totally do it now, too. In fact, I have licked my children’s faces clean when they had something yummy. In a world where the NoseFrida snot sucker exists, this no longer seems all that bad.

… Bribe my kid. Seriously, what was I thinking? Bribery is AWESOME. You want that Rice Krispie Treat, kid? Eat the broccoli. You want that new toy car? Pooping on the potty won’t kill you. No, it’s not my default, but it comes in handy … pretty often.

… Smell my kid’s butt in public to determine whether he’d pooped. Honestly, is there a more efficient way? If I’m going to make the trek to some nasty public bathroom, I better be sure it’s worth the trip.

… Talk so freely about poop. It all started when I dissected my baby’s diapers for clues to his well-being. Yellow and seedy? Good! Green and runny? Oh no! And now I have a 3-year-old boy who randomly shouts “POOP! PEE! FART!” in public, then dissolves into laughter. I couldn’t avoid it if I tried.

… Post too many pictures of my kids on Facebook. I AM SO THIS PERSON. Sorry. Hide me. Unfriend me. It’s a sickness and I can’t stop.

Tell me, my pretties: What did you swear you’d never do? Are you holding firm on any of those pre-kid declarations?