*You say, out loud, in your own office, “I gotta go potty.”
*You threaten your child with, “Are you going to be good for Santa, or do you want him to bring reindeer poop?”
*You run at the cry of “Mommy, I gotta go _______,” to make sure no messes need to be cleaned up.
*You feel like you have a bipolar child, “I don’t wanna do that!” (That’s him, not me.), so you move on, then he bursts into tears, “I wanna do that!” (Or maybe he’s a 40-year-old woman in disguise?)
*You giggle when your child is handed bells for his holiday performance and he shouts, in the quiet, “Mommy, I got bells!”
*You can no longer read a paper, or even have a moment of thought on the potty (or in the bathroom) before your child needs something in the other room.
*Your most relaxing time is the 30 minutes you have to spend each week in the allergist’s office, waiting on your allergy shots.
*You contemplate moving into the spare bathroom so that everything you need is in one place for those early morning wake-ups.
*Your idea of downtime is when you are in the shower.
*You can no longer watch any more than 34 minutes of a movie with your child (and it is a kid-type movie) before he shouts, “Mommy, wanna watch Mickey!”
And of course, the list goes on….
How would I know who you are the mother of?