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SCREWED BY SURVIVAL INSTINCTS

01.08.2013 by Lynn Morrison /

When you are a parent, survival instincts usually come to your rescue. Babies somehow know who is mommy, how to get food and how long they can make you go without sleep before you’ll chuck them in a canal. However, there is one area in which survival instincts screw you from every direction. It can best be summed up with three little words: I do it.

When you hear a 20 month old say “I do it”, you should go ahead and run out the door screaming. It will save you hours of pain and suffering and let you skip straight to the end result. Are you late for an important event? You’ll get “I do it” with every damn piece of clothing. Did you just accidentally pour too much water in a cup? You’ll hear “I do it” mere seconds before you hear the cascade of water falling to the floor. If you are really lucky, your child will pair “I do it” with everyone’s favorite word, “MINE”.

Ability to do the task plays no role in the decision to “I do it”. Never mind that zippers are not covered until Dressing Yourself 401. Your 2 year old will fight tooth and nail to spend five minutes struggling with their zipper as though their very existence depended on it.

The worst part? Survival instincts are so deeply ingrained that you don’t have a hope in hell in defending yourself against them. You just have to sit there and painfully watch your toddler feed herself noodle soup with a fork. Only intervene if you have been looking for a reason to mop your floor.

This phrase doesn’t go away. It starts with “I do it” clothes and food, progresses up to scissors, tools and knives and eventually ends up in tattoos and automobiles. I recently told my own mom that I’d do something myself and it is a wonder that she didn’t slap my head off. How can she be so patient? I wanna kick my kids to the corner somedays and they are only 2 and 4. Thinking about another 30 years of this bullshit makes me want to run away to the nearest bar and drink myself into oblivion.

So thank you Mother Nature for letting me be screwed by survival instincts. I can’t wait to see what other punishments you have dreamed up for me.

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About Lynn Morrison

Lynn Morrison is the sassy, snarky voice behind The Nomad Mom Diary. As the wife of one skinny Italian man and the mother of two posh British princesses, she spends most of her time trying to figure out what the heck everyone around her is saying. A consummate extrovert, she likes nothing better than a big glass of wine, a bright spotlight and a karaoke machine. You can follow her on Facebook and Twitter.

Comments

  1. Ozcloggie (Jo Mulholland ) says

    January 8, 2013 at 1:58 pm

    Enjoy it!! It all passes so quickly!!!

  2. Stephen Greene says

    January 15, 2013 at 5:44 pm

    Right, thanks for that. Something to look forward to. My son is 18 months old and, although he can’t say ‘I do it’ yet, insists on feeding himself by batting away my arm if I try to get a spoon anywhere near his mouth. It takes forever and the result is most of the food ends up on him or the floor. At least the dog is happy.

  3. Lynn Morrison says

    January 20, 2013 at 9:17 pm

    Stephen – that is exactly the reason why we still have a dog. My husband keeps trying to give her away, but then I remind him that he would have to clean up the floor. My advice – just stock up on some extra napkins and cut back on the dog food purchases and everything will work itself out.

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