I swore I'd never let my kid watch TV, and now it's on for hours each day. I've licked my finger to wipe crud off my kid's face. My sleeve/hair/face has been used as a tissue. I don't always get to shower. I can't pee or poop with the door closed. I continue to listen to the Phineas and Ferb soundtrack even when my kid is no longer in the car. I see Thomas train track layouts when I close my eyes. I'm the freaking room parent for my kid's class. I buy all these crafts for The Climber but usually only end up doing about half of them. I swore I'd never take him to McDonald's, but it's now his favorite restaurant. I've judged other moms for something, as I'm sure I've been judged. I've been that parent in Target with the crying child. I have a "Mommy Blog". My house often looks like a Toys R Us exploded inside it. I've taken my kid on "playdates". I've been known to sanitize the communal trains at Barnes and Noble with wipes before The Climber touches them. I have "mom jeans" (though I try not to wear them outside). I feel like a horrible parent when I have to bring The Climber out in public with any visible (if self-inflicted) injury. My clothes usually have something spilled on them by the end of the day. Glitter is a banned substance in my house. I still check on The Climber before bed to make sure he's still breathing.
The list goes on and on.
I have become a cliche. But you know what? That's alright. Because I wouldn't have it any other way.