Parental Happiness Is….

Parental Happiness is…

Exiting the house before 9am without suffering a sore throat from all that shouting.

Struggling into a pair of size twelve jeans without a five year old asking why don’t you buy clothes that fit?

Finding a pub with a beer garden with a park on a sunny day.

Waking up before the children.

Waking up the children (just for a change)

Feeling a grubby paw reach for yours and hearing a little voice say I love you.

Watching a baby shuffling along the floor clapping and whooping with delight when you come in from work because she can’t say I love you yet.

Getting through a day without cleaning up anyone elses bodily functions.

Drinking a cup of tea when it’s hot.

Going to the toilet, alone.

Eating cakes your children have made you.

Not having to clean the kitchen after eating the cakes your children have made you.

Hearing someone that grew inside you say mummy.

Having a couple of hours not hearing someone say mummy.

Being told you look beautiful when mascara is glued to your cheeks and you are wearing your dressing gown.

The relief that flows through you when you realise it wasn’t your child who made another kid cry.

Feeding your almost toddler without being bit.

Knowing you have labeled all the school clothes before term starts.

Going to bed in a tidy house.

Waking up to toys strewn everywhere and the sound of children playing.

Sleeping without anyone waking you up.

34 thoughts on “Parental Happiness Is….”

  1. I also think a baby/ toddler just out the bath all clean and shiny is delightful, and snuggled in a baby grow at night ready for story time. A lovely list that made me ahh and giggle at the same time. x

  2. Completely agree with all of the above. Can I also add – having a snotty nose laid on your shoulder and a little person say “aaah” because she can’t yet say “I love you”. And – waking up at 7.30am to find out you’ve had a full 9 hours unbroken sleep because the baby’s slept through.

  3. Aha so true – I dream of the days I can go to the toilet alone once more…nothing quite as horrific as wakling out of a public toilet cubicle with a child who announces in tannoy volumes for all to hear the exact details of your pooh !

  4. 🙂

    Experience has taught me to be a little scared of food prepared by my children.

    My youngest has recently started force-feeding me bread with half an inch of butter. Then there was that time my eldest thought it a good idea to add oregano to my fried egg. Don’t try – leads to nauseousness. And don’t do what I did and be all polite and pretend to like it. Because you are served it again and again and again and …

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