7 Things Throwback Thursday Taught Me

We’ve all done it, that whiplash effect that happens on every #ThrowBackThursday. This past Thursday, mine was fairly severe as I looked through those hundreds of photos from my youth. (Thank you, Facebook, for so lovingly keeping all those pictures, good and bad.) So, how has life changed since baby?

1. Bodily fluids are no problem.


Before baby, I’ve gotta admit, I was a complete wuss around puke. Or poo, though poo is surprisingly easier to handle. Someone starts gagging? I’m gone. My poor parents could never have just one child sick. If either sibling started blowing chunks, I was right there with them, fever-free. After baby? I still don’t handle grown-up puke well, but I don’t reflex puke. Really, I’m pretty awesome at it. And the other bodily fluids are a piece of cake! Poo spilling out a diaper? I got this. Pee in the baby’s eye? At least it’s sterile! Snot bridges from nose to boob? Eh, no one will see it. It does itch, though…

2. College all-nighters are for noobs.


Before baby, I thought I was a champ at all-nighters. Seriously, we’d have a checklist of items. Triple shot espresso, Twizzlers, Five Hour Energy or Nos (either, or), laptop, back-up laptop, three USB keys, and two print-outs of the term paper guidelines. Enter motherhood. Oh, how I long for those college days, where all-nighters were once a month if our teachers were sadists. #2 is nearly 9 months old, and we still wake up three times a night. Sleep training is no fun. Mombies. That is all we are. Mombies. Drooling, mumbling, stumbling, half-dressed, purple-eyed creatures of sleeplessness. Naps? Right. The moment you lay down, your mind takes off. The moment you finally drift into hard-won sleep? The baby wakes up. Every. Dang. Time.

3. Diets never go away, but the reasons change.


Before baby, I wasn’t incredibly concerned about this one. Lord, the second trimester with #1 I ate a bacon and butter sandwich twice a day, six to eight slices a pop. I did pretend, though. The whole staring in the mirror in the locker room (or in my case, the tiny church school bathroom with three stalls), sucking in my gut, and saying, “Ugh, thunder thighs!” After baby, I want to slap my pre-baby self. Girlfriend, be grateful for your poor little belly pooch. It will never be the same again. Even.

4. Food.


Before baby, it was free game! Like I said, I ate bacon out the wazzoo in college. I felt so ashamed, knowing all the carcinogens and sodium-levels, but it’s BACON! Plus, I was blessed with a high metabolism. I had no butt and no boobs, but I had a metabolism a cheetah would envy. After baby? Food suddenly takes on horrific shapes and characters. Hamburger Helper grows salty fangs. Ramen is Medusa. Store-bought applesauce is the devil, with its high fructose corn syrup and additives. And seriously, how the heck do they get baby food bananas to look so much like custard, when actual pureed bananas have little bitty seeds and go brown in seconds? It’s a little shady, if you ask me.

5. Boobs.


Before baby, I had nothing. Literally, nothing. I’m too ashamed to even post a picture for how little I had. I have convinced people I was a guy, there was so little. Push-ups were my friends. Literally, I would pray every day for God to give me C cups. After baby, BAZINGA! May I just say, breastfeeding is the best thing ever? Even if I have to trade a little sag after they’re weaned, they’re bigger! I guess if you start with nothing, anything is an improvement. It’s wonderful! No more shame here! (Push-ups are still my friends. Eventually, duct tape will be, too.)

6. Songs are never the same.


Before baby, my friends and I would belt out “Bleeding Love” and “Shut Up And Drive” like the rebellious, Glee-loving teenagers we were. After? Those poor songs… I’ve twisted and tortured them until they bend to my will. Regular songs at my house are the new “Hey, Stinky Baby,” “Mr. New Booty,” “Bounce, Bounce Baby,” and “Michaelman.” (“Hey, Sexy Lady,” dunno-the-actual-name-of-this-song-because-it-was-too-inappropriate-for-my-church-ears, “Dance, Dance,” and the Spiderman theme song from the ’60s, respectively.) And they’re usually followed by terrible screeching sounds and weird dance moves. It’s epic.

7. Profile pictures show my true love.


Before baby? Duck face here, duck face there, prom picture, another kissy face, some random cute picture of me, peace sign. After baby? Kid, kid, kid, me and kid, kid, kid, wedding, kid, wedding, kid, kid, both kids, both kids, me and the kid, me and the kid, kid, kid…



I guess in the end, the transformation has been pretty decent. I may not ever get sleep. I might have forgotten what make-up is, and I might sound like a strangled cat when I sing, but I’ve got an iron stomach, better food, and bigger boobies. As for the weight issue? I’ve given that one up. After all, a few extra pounds are needed for this new hourglass body. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.


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