The Ten Commandments of parenting.

1.  Thou shalt not take a leisurely shit.

Yesterday, around 8:30 p.m., I told my husband it was time to start getting the Bug ready for bed.  Never a good sleeper, the Bug is even harder to wake in the morning now that it’s dark all the time.

“Okay,” he said casually.  Then he picked up the newspaper and uttered the eight words I dread more than anything.  “I just need to go to the bathroom.” 

Ten minutes later, I was gritting my teeth so hard, I had a cramp in my forehead. Just how long does one need to take a crap anyway?  I fully understand the joys of lingering on the throne, but as a parent, sometimes you just have to shit AND get off the pot.  And according to the results of my informal polling, it seems to be men who have a hard time getting the job done in a timely manner.   I’ve also noticed that men don’t seem to be able to hold it if necessary.  WHY?

2.  Thou shalt never finish a sentence, much less a conversation.

“Mama?”

“Honey, I’m talking to your father.  Please don’t interrupt.”

“Excuse me, Mama?”

“What did I just say?”

“But I said excuse me.”

“Yes, that was very polite of you, but you’re still interrupting.”

Which leads to a long discussion about when it’s appropriate to say excuse me, and when to just wait, and when you can hang on your mother’s sleeve in silent insistence that she pay attention right now.  By the time all that’s over, you’ve forgotten what you were talking about originally.

3.  Thou shalt utter phrases thou never expected to use.

Because I’m the grown-up.  It’s good for you, that’s why.  Go to your room.  Don’t give me that look.  You’re just hungry.  No, you can’t have donuts for dinner. Because I said so, that’s why.  We can’t always have everything we want.  I just want five minutes of peace.  

4.  Thou shalt not swear.

My son once asked me what the hell we were having for dinner.  And at the age of two, he burst out with “Jesus, I’m coughing hard!” 

Realize that, sadly, ”Jesus Christ, where the fucking hell are the goddamn car keys?” is simply no longer an appropriate way to start the morning.  Palinize your vocabulary.  Darn, gosh, and heck are all acceptable substitutes: “Gosh darn it, where the heck did I put those silly car keys?”

5.  Thou shalt hide all thy gangsta rap CDs.

Unconscionably, instead of snuggling up with Tchaikovsky as all the pregnancy books recommended, I spent most of my nine months listening to Eminem and some truly foul-mouthed Dr. Dre songs. What can I say? The hook was really catchy. It’s really a wonder the Bug wasn’t born waving a gat and yelling “I’ma bust a cap in yo’ ass, mo-fo!” Bow-wow-wow yippy yo yippy yay.

6. Thou shalt not have hobbies. Or, if thou hast hobbies, thou shalt never complete a project.

My house is full of half-completed scrapbooks, jewelry, quilts and other orphaned craft projects. When I started making the Bug’s Halloween costume – a leopard – in July, my husband laughed at me. Actually, he laughed and said, “What the HELL is wrong with you?” Now it’s a week before Halloween, and based on the progress I’ve made, the Bug is going to have to be a drag queen instead.

7. Thou shalt give up thy slovenly eating habits.

Before we had the Bug, my husband and I used to consider crappy cereal a perfectly respectable dinner. Our friends’ kids loved to come over to our house just for the sugar fix. Now, I feel strangely compelled to try to feed the Bug a reasonable diet consisting of actual food groups. Meanwhile, my husband has a stash of Cocoa Puffs and Cinnamon Toast Crunch hidden in the back of the cupboard, which he gets up early to eat on the sly. Oh, what I would give to eat a bowl of Cap’n Crunch out in the open.

8. Thou shalt set a good example.

“Put your boots under the bench, and hang up your coat properly,” I order the Bug every afternoon, as I fling my coat on the floor and kick my shoes across the hall.

9. Thou shalt maintain a sense of humor in all situations.

The other day at a restaurant, the Bug asked me – LOUDLY – how girls pee.

“They sit on the toilet,” I stammered stupidly. “You know that.” His preschool has a coed bathroom, sort of like on Ally McBeal, with two tiny toilets, and the kids often carry on lengthy conversations while seated on the pot.

“But where does the pee come OUT?” he persisted.

“I don’t think we need to…”

“Like when I pee, it comes from the hole in my bing. Do girls pee from the hair between their legs? And why do girl kids not have hair there?”

I stuffed his mouth with pasta and smiled weakly at the family next to us. “That’s enough questions, sweetheart.” In my head I was thinking, at least this will make a really good blog post.

10. Thou shalt overcome thy ridiculous fears.

Like fear of spiders, and of late night phone calls, and of going downstairs by yourself to the laundry room in the dark, even if you think there might be a creepy skeletal axe murderer lurking in the garage. Or of having someone vomit dinosaur oatmeal all over your hair.

It is now YOUR job, as the adult, to dispose of spiders, and to answer the phone, and to face off with the axe murderer, and to be puked upon regularly. Do it with pride and dignity.