8 Things That Were Mine – Until I Had Kids

Once upon a time, I had things that were mine – until I had kids. If I liked something, I bought it, it was mine. If it was part of my body, I owned it, it was mine. I did not need to question the ownership of things in my possession, I owned them, they were mine, back the fuck off.

Then I shared my body for nine months.

No, scratch that, then I shared my body for thirty-three months because I used my body to first grow, and then nourish a child until he was two. And then I did it again for another kid, making a total of sixty-six months I shared my actual body with another human being. After that, nothing was ever mine again.

Here are 8 Things that were mine until I had kids. 

My bed – I sleep like a dog to try to maximize space

I said I wouldn’t co-sleep. I lied. I had a baby that did not sleep unless I was touching him, and by the time I got him out of my bed, I had another baby. Eleven years since the first kid was born, I still have a kid in my bed at some point almost every night. I sleep horizontally at the end of my bed like a golden retriever to maximize the space.

My privacy – Want to see my vagina?

At this point, I could probably answer the door naked and not be phased. Having had doctors and midwives all up in my business, then kids following me into the bathroom (or better yet, flinging the door open so everyone at Target can see what I look like peeing. Why is the one-stall family washroom right across from the dollar section, didn’t they see this coming?) I have no shame left.

Want to see my vagina? Might as well, everyone else has.

My morning routine feels like a distant memory

Remember sleeping in on weekends? What was that like? Now, weekend mornings have become a negotiation game.

“I will let you watch two hours of PopularMMOs if you just let me sleep” followed by enthusiastic agreement, and then jumping on my head every fifteen minutes.

Or there is the other negotiation practice – the one between parents. “I will let you nap later if you take the kids in the morning.”

My TV is used for Teen Titans Go Marathons

Uninterrupted television watching is a thing of the past. If my TV is not being used for a Teen Titans Go marathon, I am either trying to watch something while also refereeing the fighting in the next room, or staying up late to watch it, playing chicken with getting to watch to the end of the show before my kid bursts in (see number one on this list.)

My kids always want my food

Want your kid to eat something? Tell them it’s yours. They will want it every single time.

I’m basically a bank now. 

What money? Oh, the money I am holding onto until my kids spend it, that money? I’m basically a bank now.

My special mugs are always dirty

I have special mugs – okay, they are all special. I use each of them for specific purposes and I take good care of them. So why is it that every time I go to make a coffee, none of them are there? Oh, it’s because they are all half-filled with water, sitting precariously on the edge of the bathroom sink.

My heart. Gag me. 

Gag me. I hate when lists end like this. “My kids drive me crazy, but I wouldn’t change it for the world #blessed”. We know. There has never been a parenting article that ends with, “In truth, I really just hate them and I wish the Goblin King would come take them away right now.”

I am still not used to the constant sharing. I am not down with this absolutely nothing being truly mine shit. But soon, they will be grown up and move away – and then maybe I can sneak into their house “I Love You Forever”-style and steal half their stuff.