You Might Be A Parent If. . .

You have ever stood toe to toe with another adult at Christmas time, clutching the last action figure on the shelf at Wal-Mart and spewing spittle into one another’s face, because that action figure is second only to "Surprises" on The List.

You have ever entertained ten cake-throwing preschoolers wearing party hats in your living room so that Johnny will have warm birthday memories and extra presents.

You have ever sat through three showings of Pokemon, The Movie because it’s Precious Child’s favorite film.

You have ever stood in line during your lunch hour to exchange the Spiderman bookbag for the Iron Man bookbag because NOBODY has a Spiderman bookbag. (Feel free to substitute Barney, Dora the Explorer, Bob the Builder or your own animated choice.)

You have ever taken time off work to eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for Parent’s Lunch Day at second grade.

You have ever thought the sixth grade band played the most beautiful and spirited version of Frosty the Snowman that has ever been witnessed the world over.

You have ever worked overtime to make up for the time you were late taking Billy’s lunchbox to school because he left it in your car and you know they’re having ugly food in the school cafeteria.

You have ever climbed into the driver’s seat of your car only to come in contact with the business end of GI Joe’s assault weapon.

You have ever told one child not to “look at,” “touch,” or “smile at” another child?

You have ever uttered the words “Because I Said So!” because if you said what you were really thinking it would scar the listener--and bind your psyche with guilt--for life.

Fair's Fair

I don’t have any common sense. What little sense I have left over after slogging along for almost two decades in the parenthood trenches is eligible for placement on the Endangered Species List. So it seemed like a good idea to take the kids to the Fair.

My main role at the Fair is Watcher/Waver, with a part-time career in Holding Stuff. It is my job as the female parent to juggle the load of half-finished corn dogs, plastic souvenir soda cups, and stuffed cartoon characters won at assorted games of chance, while watching with exaggerated animation as various family members spin past in a blur of lights, waving madly as I squint through cotton-candy glazed trifocals and hoping I’m not near-sightedly greeting the sugar-coated blonde from the fishing booth or warring gang members. It’s not like I’d ride, anyway. I get motion sick just stirring sugar into my coffee.

Next year, things are going to be different. If I’m looking to make changes, what better place than the Fair? So if you happen past a middle-aged woman downing motion sickness pills with a gulp from a plastic Family Guy cup just before tackling the pony rides, hang around and watch. My dismount is bound to be a doozy. I just hope I don't drop the corn dog.