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Your baby coos/walks/talks for the first time and you tell EVERYONE that will listen, and you don't really notice when the postman rolls his eyes at you.You no longer have to read the words to The Barnyard Dance; you have it memorized. You have a hard time finishing aYou feel no shame by the fact that you know the words to the theme song from Clifford the Big Red Dog, you just don't freely offer up that information at cocktail parties. You realize that the butt-sniff-check is sometimes necessary to determine a mess and sometimes other people have to witness you do it.The word "late" was never in your vocabulary until Aunt Flo was and you've never been on time for anything since. You can't count the number of times you've asked your child not to lick other people/things.[Image] You sometimes find yourself talking to another adult and ask that they excuse you because you need to go "potty."You don't remember what 8 hours of sleep feels like. You've trained your body to function on 4. You can pinpoint a meltdown five minutes before it happens and already have a time-out spot picked out.Time-outs are really just sanity savers in the form of discipline. You finally completed all of the items on your To-Do List; from last Thursday. During your last date night, the conversation kept returning to baby's diaper rash and next week's preschool orientation. You also stopped and picked up diapers on the way home. Romantic. You realize that the last R rated movie you saw is only viewable on your VCR. You just felt a little older after realizing that I was talking about VHS and you know what that is. Lounge pants are not just a fashion statement, they're a way of life, and they make you forget about your skinny jeans and the unholy need to fit into them again. You can't remember anything, but you have to remember everything, because no one else will. You smiled at least twice while reading this list and nodded your head in agreement. You know how incomplete this list is and understand that this is the ice cube perched on top of the ice berg. Perhaps even just an ice shaving on top of the iceberg. And while we could continue to add to this list, we may never leave our computers again, which only goes to show that you know you're a mom when you can no longer count the ways.
Don't even get me started on the Mom of a Teenager List. Oi vey!

Written by Winklepots for The Mama Dramalogues.