There were a lot of things that I didn't know before becoming a mother.
I didn't know that I could possibly love another human being so much.
I didn't know that the smell of a newborn baby head would be so intoxicating. (They should bottle that smell.)
I didn't know that I would spend the equivalent of the GNP of a mid-sized country on diapers every year. Or that I would have the pediatrician on speed dial and know the words to all the Wiggles songs.
In fact I would have been more like, "Wiggles? What?"
But it turns out that those were not at all the important things that I didn't know.
I didn't know that the shape of the pasta determined how it tasted. Who knew that rotini would be the equivalent of eating crushed glass, while spaghetti would be delightful.
I didn't know that there would be fights to the death (if I didn't break them up) over one horribly tacky spoon with a raised floral design. Because eating with something less "fancy" is cruel and unusual punishment.
I didn't know that I could be driven to my breaking point over something as stupid as a spoon.
Nor did I know that the breaking point would have me opening my kitchen door and throwing the spoon as hard as I could into the neighbor's yard while smugly shouting, "Happy? ARE YOU HAPPY?"
I didn't know that human children could photosynthesize. Because that is clearly the only explanation I have for why one of my children is still alive.
I didn't know that tomatoes were the spawn of Satan himself, as is pasta sauce and salsa. But not ketchup. And how dare you even suggest that it is made out of tomatoes. Shhhhhh. No seriously, don't tell him.
I didn't know that ketchup counts as a vegetable. And french fries can too. And that I would say with a straight face, "Oh yes, I served two vegetables with dinner tonight."
I didn't know how much energy it would take to wrestle people into their carseats. Or that I would opt to stay home rather than engage in carseat gymnastics.
I didn't know that other people would care so much about the parenting choices I make for my family. But if I help them feel superior, then so be it.
I didn't know that I could theoretically fart in public and then blame it on one of the kids. I would just remember to make sure I brought a kid with me. Theoretically, of course.
I didn't know that it would be possible to spend half an hour in the shower and then come out just as dirty as you went in. Or to wash your hair but have the entire top and back half of your hair still be dry. That's a skill, people.
I didn't know that they would all have so much energy and that they would get it by draining it directly from me, like aliens. Or that I would suggest fun activities like, "Let's lay down on the couch and rest our eyes!" or "Let's play the quiet game! See who can be quiet the longest!"
So tell me, what didn't you know?