“The birth of every wispy-haired, chubby-faced, ragamuffin kid is a reminder from God that life goes on. When they take their first breath, it takes yours away. Cherish your babies like a Fabergé egg. Take care to avoid accidentally banging their heads on the coffee table. You are the ultimate role model. If you bungle raising your children, whatever else you do matters less. Your children may not listen to what you say, but they are always watching you. Try to leave them a legacy of character and faith that will be valued and treasured till kingdom come.” Judith Land
Raising kids is like walking a little drunk person through Jurassic Park, bumping into things, urinating and vomiting, willingly sharing infectious diseases, and the mother’s age with strangers. Teething babies are like pots of boiling vomit on a hot stove, ready to boil over at any time unexpectedly. Living with them is like a fraternity house, and you got paired up with the worst roommate. Everything broke, everyone was awake, and there was a lot of throwing up. At least you can blame your farts on them.
They enter your home and for the next 18 years make so much noise you can’t stand it. They use sleep deprivation methods to try to break you running around like rodeo clowns. The most popular dinner party conversations are about poop, not politics. If you could look inside their head, you would discover a giant drool gland. If your kids haven’t seen it on television, they probably won’t like it. Living with children is like being in the kitchen when someone forgets the top to the blender. Boys leave little streaks of dirt, slime stains, marbles, skid marks, and little cars with missing wheels. Girls are just as messy as boys, leaving piles of glitter and confetti, doll clothes, and pick-up sticks. Cleaning the house when they are home is like shoveling the sidewalk during a snow storm. Small children disturb your sleep, and teens make you worry about life. If you don’t like your neighbors, buy their kids a drum. If things are suddenly quiet, they probably left for college.
You begin to feel like a drug addict when you don’t mind getting crapped on, and big smiles turn into hysterics. Instead of blushing, you invent creative new words for drippy noses, booboos, and body fluids. Try to remember that your youngest child isn’t mad at you; they just haven’t learned to speak yet. When their eyes unexpectedly pop open when you are watching them sleep doesn’t mean you’re supposed to drop to the floor and roll out of the room like a ninja warrior. Watch the chimpanzees in the zoo if you want them to learn how to have fun together. We teach them to walk and talk and then be silent and sit down for the rest of their lives.
The moral of most children’s stories is a vasectomy. If your baby is perfect, you’re probably the grandparent, not the parent. The first 30 years of raising children are the easiest. Children help you reach old age quicker. Suppose you find yourself continuing the habit of taking naps when the baby has left to make a family of its own. In that case, you’re probably just getting old.
Judith Land
Adoption Detective: Memoir of an Adopted Child 
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