You reserve the hashtag #worstdayever for when your kid doesn’t nap. Car crash? Puh-lease. #firstworldproblems
You wear snot, spit-up, and drool with dignity because, well, you have no other choice.
You sacrifice hundreds of dollars in makeup a year to the groping, clumsy hands of your toddler just so that you can apply your remaining make-up in peace.
You have 10 pairs of Tom’s Shoes and you don’t mind that people call them Mom’s because, well, comfort. (Did you know they hold up in the wash machine?)
You reserve your faded, holes-in-the-knees jeans for days you’re really dressing up (i.e. showering and getting out of your yoga pants for a night out, which usually involves monitoring 10 loads of laundry while Netflix and WasThatTheBabyCrying?!)
You definitely don’t aspire to have six pack abs, but more like a tummy that looks vaguely less poochy than your second trimester.
Your idea of fine dining is one during which you sit down for at least five minutes.
You are drafting a dissertation on the psychological ramifications of letting your child doze off in the car before naptime. #queuehousemusic
You yell your child’s name when calling your dog, and visa versa.
You consider successful breastfeeding sessions those during which your little milk monster doesn’t draw blood when he falls asleep and chomps your nipple.
You passionately insist on making sure restaurants have high-chairs, crayons, changing tables, and plain noodles before making reservations.
Your idea of a night out is a 2 p.m. birthday party for your friends’ kids.
You haven’t slept more than 3 hours at a stretch in two years… but consider those stretches to be life-alteringly restful.
Your favorite bar, salon, and restaurants have morphed into your favorite playground, the library, and the grocery store.
When you meet really nice people who don’t have kids you politely decline their invitations because, well, #youwouldntunderstand.
A bomb workout includes one during which your child plays for 10 minutes while you do as many burpees as you can and then wails on your shoulders for a set of squats.
You have so many books memorized from reading them 100,000 times each that you begin reciting them instead of counting sheep during sleepless nights.
You didn’t know you could disable your iPhone for 45 years until you let your toddler play with it. (That’s 23,664,690 minutes.)
Your cell phone carrier’s insurance company is no longer accepting your broken phones. (I’m looking at you, Asurion.)
You have frequent flier miles with Huggies if you have girls and Pampers if you have boys.
You can’t wait for your kid to nap so that you can do something relaxing like paint your nails… but you always end up napping with him.
You’ve decided that certain recreational habits are totally permissible for your babysitters, just get me out of here!
Your call log always includes dials to the pediatrician, your mom, and your babysitter within the last 24 hours.
Your friends who don’t have children have categorically unfollowed you on social media because #isnthethecutestbabyever?!
You find yourself painting your fingernails at stoplights. And on really busy weeks, you just color them with permanent markers and rock the goth-mom-chic look.
You laugh when your friends plan wild weekends in Vegas and then mention as an afterthought: you can’t get a babysitter that weekend, can you?
Your idea of a brilliant poem goes something like this: Mama! Dada! Doggie-gog!
You used to think you’d never let your child eat food off the floor and now you find yourself doing it hourly because you’re too tired to haul out the vacuum.
You wipe multiple noses with your sleeve.
You’re more interested in your friend’s pregnancies than the world’s most satiating news stories.
You’ve started to notice that your kid has pulled so much hair out of your head that you now have layers AND bangs. Bonus!
You’re so good at making sculptures with Play-Doh that you’ve started an instagram account called @playdohbrilliance
You seethe when you see moms on Pinterest make ornate Disney characters out of grapes and celery. Who has time for that shit?!
Your Spotify playlist now includes “When You Wish Upon A Star” and every song from “The Jungle Book”.
You begin using baby talk at work. Can I interest you in some more eggies before we begin the meeting?
You haven’t heard yourself referred to by your first name in at least six months. Even your husband just calls you mom.
Your car needs detailed literally an hour after you have it detailed.
You nod at other moms in the grocery store when their kids act up with a knowing next time it’ll be me look of pity.
You haven’t seen your toothbrush in a month but your child’s Elmo soft brush seems to be working just fine.
You sing “Quit Playing Games With My Heart” when your child appears to be asleep and then looks up at you with wide eyes when you try to lay him down.
You can clean a diaper blowout qualified as a FEMA disaster with two wipes.
You think a sexy advance is, “hey, want to take a shower?” But you actually want a shower.
You have evolved into a chef of four-course meals. Goldfish crackers followed by string cheese and cold eggs with a dessert pairing of yogurt with juice boxes.
Changing tables? Hah. You can change your kids diaper while he is running at full speed.
You save birthday gifts from out of town family members for when you need bargaining chips for a kid who’s acting up.
You have a new standard for clean. (Or lack thereof.)
You definitely got your first grey hair.
Your favorite new game is hide and seek. You hide on the bathroom floor and do deep breathing for three minutes hoping it takes your child at least five minutes to find you.
When your kid drinks water in the swimming pool you hand him a cup defeatedly.