Five years ago this morning with the birth of Connery, I joined Parent Club. Parent Club is, indeed, much like Fight Club, but with more trips to the emergency room and less arson (unless you count Level 5 Diaper Containment disasters in public bathrooms). In honor of my initiation into Parent Club--and with a hat tip to the original Rules of Fight Club--I would like to offer the Rules of Parent Club:
1st Rule: You must talk about Parent Club. Talking with other parents is the only way you will survive.
2nd Rule: You MUST talk about Parent Club. Seriously. Even if you think you'll never be one of those people who talks about her kid all the time, you will be. You won't be able to help it. You might even start a blog, but that's optional.
3rd Rule: If someone says stop, goes limp or taps out, that someone will probably be you. Children have seriously scary levels of energy.
4th Rule: Only one child to a fight. That means you must remain the adult in the conversation, even if it is really tempting to surrender to your inner child in the heat of the moment. (I've definitely violated this one.)
5th Rule: One fight at a time. Don't try to change more than one problem behavior at a time. It won't work and you'll all end up crankier than when you started. And trust me, you were already pretty goddamn cranky.
6th Rule: Shoes are optional (to a certain age), but shirts are required (in public). Please don't be one of those parents who totes his kid around in public wearing nothing but a diaper. I don't care how hot it is; a cotton onesie is going to be just as comfortable as near-naked, without the trashiness.
7th Rule: Parenting will go on as long as it has to. Just ask my parents, whom I'm sure when they had me way back in 1973 thought that they would be pretty much free of the whole gig by 2008. No, my mom still says that she's only as happy as her unhappiest child.
8th Rule: If this is your first time in Parent Club, you should probably withhold judgment. The very things that you decry loudly as a brand-new parent (television, McDonald's, princesses) will be the things, perversely, that your child will want most. Karma is a bitch.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a birthday to celebrate.