Fun on a scale of 0 to 10

Breakdown:

Eating at a grown-up restaurant: Before kids, this was one of my top two favorite things to do, right along with going to the movies. I loved trying new foods, talking with my husband, and having absolutely no dishes to clean afterward. After kids, going out to eat is akin to throwing myself on a grenade. I know the explosion is going to come at some point, so I sacrifice myself to keep the casualties to a minimum. Meals are now spent shaking objects in front of the kids to prevent a meltdown, picking crayons up off the floor, and shoveling my meal down my throat so I at least get to eat some of it before we have to do the walk of shame to the front door with screaming children in tow.

Going to an amusement park: Before kids, it was rides! games! food! fun! Now it's watching the kids have fun while we watch the coasters zoom by without us. If I'm lucky, I get to go on rides like Lucy's Camp Bus and Woodstock's Whirlybirds. So I guess there's that. Bonus is that by the end of the day, everyone is so exhausted that we leave shouting at each other through tears.

Watching TV: I'll watch anything on TV, so aside from the nonstop talking this hasn't changed much.

Cleaning: I never liked cleaning much, but I like a clean house. Using a few precious Saturday morning hours to clean seemed like such a waste, but it had to be done. Morning was whenever I rolled out of bed -- usually around 10 a.m. Once clean, the house would feel pretty sanitary for a good five days or more. Now, cleaning is my worst nightmare. Not only is there no time to knock it all out in a few hours, but immediately after I clean something, it's dirty again. I sweep the floor; Owen finds an old cracker and smashes it onto the hardwood, creating far more crumbs than mathematically possible. I wash the dishes; someone wants a snack, but not that snack, and not on that plate, and a drink, but not in that cup. In fact, I'm pretty sure my house would actually be cleaner if I didn't try to clean. Because if I lock the kids in a room full of toys so I can clean the kitchen, I return to a destroyed room that needs more cleaning.

Room full of toys? Let's pull every movie and video game out of the entertainment center! Weeee!

Me cleaning is like Sisyphus rolling the boulder up the hill, only to have it roll back down again, for all eternity.

Grocery shopping, alone: Previously one of the most boring items on my to-do list; however, since having children, grocery shopping alone has become a mini-vacation. I sip my Starbucks latte while cruising the isles, making purchasing decisions and comparing prices without interruption. Inwardly, I giggle at all the exasperated moms bribing their children with donuts and M&Ms. Unfortunately, next time I'll be that mom, tossing random items into the cart, trying to prevent their little angry heads from spinning, and rushing to the front to pay before I'm actually done. Of course, I leave without the one thing I went in for.

In my head this seemed like a better deal than it actually is

Cleanliness is next to... ah, who am I kidding?

My highchair's removable top says, "Dishwasher Safe Tray" but what it should say is, "Only when you have a starving, screaming baby doing the plank to avoid being strapped into his highchair will you remember that you never cleaned the oatmeal-booger-drool encrusted layer that formed on this tray after breakfast, so just snap this sucker off and presto! There's a mostly clean tray underneath!" But kudos to Fisher-Price for advertising it as if I actually put the tray into my dishwasher to clean it, rather than just rubbing it with a wipe every few days. It makes other people think I clean things.

I mean, I do clean things. Or at least I make an attempt. Usually I start something, like wiping down the counters, and three to eight seconds in I hear, "Blah blah blah blah, YOU'RE NOT LISTENING TO ME! Blah blah blah blah" and then I have to go do something even worse than cleaning -- playing with a 3-year-old.

"But little kids love helping their moms clean!" you say. You must not have kids. Because if you did you would know that while kids do love helping their moms clean, their moms do not love having children. I meant their moms do not love having children around while they clean. And also the other thing you thought I meant.

It is so much easier to (insert any activity here) when you distract your little walking disaster with something shiny rather than trying to get her to participate. Not that I didn't try letting Nina help me clean. The Books say things like, "pitching in can be a great way for your little helper to feel like she is part of the family" and "if you don't let your sweet, innocent child help around the house, he will turn into a heartless, selfish, antisocial failure."

I was pumped! My house would be spotless and my kid would end up a well-adjusted failure instead of just a selfish one! But what The Books don't say is you better hire a construction crew to put your house back together after Teeny Tornado starts "helping."

Here is what you can expect when you ask your child for help:

Say: Be mommy's big helper and throw this diaper in the trash!
Expect: To clean poop off your walls.

Say: Let's all clean up after dinner!
Expect: To find a trail of smashed food leading from the dining room table to to the kitchen, the kitchen to the bathroom, the bathroom to your bedroom, and if you have an especially helpful child, from your bedroom onto every nice pair of pants you own.

Say: You can help sort the laundry!
Expect: To fold laundry for the rest of the day and still end up with a pile of unfolded laundry.

Say: Why don't you use your cute toy broom to help me sweep?
Expect: To be hit in the eye with a cute toy broom.

Say: Use this harmless wet paper towel to clean whatever you want while I use the real cleaner to do something useful.
Expect: To stop cleaning every three to eight seconds to pretend-spray the wet paper towel with 409.

Say: You can watch TV while I clean.
Expect: To spend several hours watching Busytown Mysteries and wondering why all of the adults are so stupid and all of the children drive cars shaped like food.

So go ahead and invite your little one to help out. At least it's more fun laughing at their attempts at "helping" than playing hide-and-seek for the umpteenth time.