I’m not even a parent; I’m an aunt. I’ve suffered through excruciating plays and concerts. I’ve watched the same Disney movies innumerable times. I’ve attended parties at Chuck E. Cheese and other bastions of sugar-frenzied screeching children. Og help me, I sat through Barney Live.
What indignities have you endured for the sake of the children?
I’ve washed diarrhea out of pants in bathroom sinks and then removed my own shirt to cover up my now bare-assed children to carry them home in one hand while carrying their shit pants in my other hand. Barney Live sounds like a cakewalk.
My kids are 4-footed.
Less than an hour ago, I just ran 3 blocks in my pajamas and slippers, in full view of all the neighborhood church-goers, chasing down one that decided it was a GREAT day to flee down the road and say HI to everybody.
I’m just glad they were matching pajamas; normally I sleep in whatever’s around, and typically look like I just dumpster-dived my wardrobe.
My son watched Bambi so many times I knew the entire dialogue by heart. I hope I never have to see that movie again in my life.
I didn’t mind *Teletubbies *so much, I’m so glad he never liked Barney.
The only other thing I did for him that everybody was sure I’d back out of, was sign up for a flying lesson so he could go up in a plane. He was 4 and all things car, train, boat, plane were fascinating to him. I hate to fly and small planes scare the crap out of me anyway and it was the day after JFK Jr crashed his plane. I went up in the twin engine Cessna with him, he had a big smile on his face the entire time, I was nauseous the entire time.
Chuck E Cheeze sucks, did that one too.
How anybody can call that slab of cardboard with plastic cheese sliding around in the grease a pizza is beyond me.
Wow, that IS brave! Way to go, mom 
My mom was raised on the coast of Maine, in the 40’s-50’s, and all the kids used to dive off rocks into the ocean. Until one day, one of them dove and never came back up.
My mom didn’t swim and was scared to death of the water the entire time I knew her, because of that.
Probably because of that, she made SURE we had swimming lessons every summer, and the first time we got my mom into the public pool with us and she went more than 3 feet deep, I was so, so proud of her. I knw, and we knew then too, that it was an incredibly hard and brave thing for her to do.
You don’t know love for a child until you’ve fished a turd from a bathtub.
Having fished a couple or three out, I figure my dues are caught up for a lifetime.
Realized she was going to throw up and immediately gathered her up in my arms so that she throws up* all over me* instead of all over the furniture and carpet.
Hey, I’m easier to clean.
Well never mind all the gross things (gum in the hand, sneeze on my collar, carrot spit up stripes down the back of my suit jacket) - I’ve worn macaroni jewelery (amazing how scratchy that is) for weeks at a time and my ear lobes are still drooping after wearing a pair of birthday earnings that could double as chandeliers (and the kid is 23 now).
I’ve hated roller coasters all my life - but I have photographic proof that I am still terrified but will go with a kid if they have to go with a grown up.
I have seen every episode of Full House a minimum of 5 times.
The horror…
Let kids who bed wet sleep in my bed anyway. Getting nits 219673876 billion times. And scabies. And worms.
I sat through several elementary school violin concerts. I’d rather scoop a turd out of a bathtub.
Dug through poop to retrieve a Lite-Brite bulb swallowed by a 3-year-old to verify that she passed it. :eek:
Now that she’s older, I’ve sat with her to watch various YouTube videos of mediocre Disney Channel-caliber singers, in the name of family togetherness.
When my cousin moved to Florida, I agreed to drive one of his cars from Cleveland to Tampa. He drove the U-Haul; his wife drive her car, and I drove his car. Her two daughters, ages about 11 and 9, rode with me.
They had a New Kids on the Block CD. That’s “CD,” singular. As in one.
Being in warm water apparently triggers my son’s bowels to empty because this now happens every time he’s in the bath. Every. Single. Time.
Must be relaxing. 
My four year-old discoverd this trick and for a few nights thought it was the funniest thing in the world to leave a few floaters behind for when his little brother came in for a bath. 
Staying up almost all night with a sick kid, getting altenatively puked on & cuddled and then having a quick shower and heading out to work.
I’ve changed diapers, bathed toddlers, had my fingers used for teething, had earrings and acrylic nails tugged by toddlers, gotten my glasses smeared, and been spit up on.
I am not a parent. I simply have a fair number of friends with kids, and have helped out with nursery and children’s classes at church.
As far as four-footed kids, my own and those belonging to friends/relatives, I’ve dealt with every body fluid you can think of. I’ve even helped drain an abscess on a cat, and had a cat have kittens on my bed - while I was in it.
I’ve also been used as a chew toy/scratching post/climbing wall.
Heh. The other day, I found myself idly wondering who was more talented - Taylor Swift or Debbie Gibson.
WTF! :eek: WTF!
Non-gross stuff: the day I was discharged from the hospital for surgery after an ectopic pregnancy burst my fallopian tube the day before, I doped myself up on percocet at the hospital, loaded up on Starbucks on the way to the YMCA and sat through my then 4.5-year-old son’s very first basketball game. He was so excited for his first game and so terrified I had simply not come home the night before, there was no way I was going to miss it if I could help it.
The gross stuff: First time my son had the stomach flu, I sat calmly with him in the bathtub, rubbing his back and comforting him until he’d finished vomiting, most of it directly into my hair and down the side of my throat.
With my daughter, so far it’s been having her urinate all over my feet - twice - one day when she decided she was done potty training.