Parenting has prepared me for a variety of things. Multitasking, stain management, and operating on 4 hours of sleep after being awoken by a sleepwalker who tried to piss in his pants drawer, just to name a few. (I guess college could have helped with that last one, but add it to the list of things I missed.)
It recently occurred to me that all these years I’ve basically been training to absolutely CRUSH it at a whole host of TV game shows. Let me explain.
In an average week, I’m at the grocery store no less than four damn times. I know the shelves of that fluorescent lit hell pit like the back of my hand.
And dashing around the store like a ticking time bomb is
whining about goldfish crackers hanging off the edge of the cart while I fill it with all the expensive things? THAT’S MY SPECIALTY.
You don’t have to be smart to win Family Feud. You have to think quick and cease to be embarrassed by the exclamations of people you are associated with. Sufficient training consists of running errands with four year olds and/or anyone who finds it acceptable to shout, “MAMA! LOOK AT THAT MAN! HIS HEAD LOOKS LIKE A SHINY BABY BIRD” or “I THINK I’M POOPING!” in line at Starbucks.
I can fashion a diaper out of band-aids and restroom paper towels. I once slapped a panty liner on the shin of my toddler whose rain boots were making her leg “feel like fire” and bought us three more hours of traipsing about. I can probably make a shelter out of big leaves and a pack of the double bubble if I had to. I’m also a pro-snack forager and can go days without a shower. You want me on your team. TRUST.
Win, Lose, or Draw
Between all the time, you spend trying to decipher what the hell frantic people are trying to tell you, and responding to demands such as “DRAW ME A PIRATE, MAMA! ON AN AIRPLANE. EATING A SANDWICH. THE LONG KIND,” you’re basically primed to wipe the floor with your opponents.
Press Your Luck
Seriously, if this isn’t parenting in a nutshell, I don’t know what is. Pressing your luck is pretty much the name of the game from day one.
Will they have colic? NO WHAMMIES, NO WHAMMIES, NO…phew. A perfectly affable baby.
I’ve scheduled two meetings and a date night for tomorrow. NO WHAMMIES, NO WHAMMIES, AW! Look who just fell asleep on the floor with 103-degree fever!
We’re used to winning and losing shit for no apparent reason. Home turf advantages in this case.