Oh, baby!

A friend's daughter has recently brought home one of those electronic babies from school... It's supposed to cry at random moments, and electronically records being picked up, having its diaper changed, etc. I've been informed that she'll be bringing it to my house tomorrow when she comes over to hang out with my kids.

Part of me is curious to see how the little bugger works, but I'll most likely be hiding in my bedroom watching Desperate Housewives reveling the notion that there's a baby in the house and I don't have to take care of it.

In my high school years they used to be 5 pound sacks of flour, but technology has become lost on us old people, you know. I can tell you, after having 3 children of my own who were born at more than eight pounds each, that little bag of flour became a big, fat lie.

I also recall the short, but graphic car accident film we had to watch in driver's ed (do they still do that?). It was supposed to shock us into being careful drivers via the use of a couple gallons of corn syrup dyed red and Granny's beat up 1975 Cadillac Seville.

It got me thinking...

There should be a film featuring the "joys" of parenthood. And, not a watered down, Hollywood version of being a parent. Steve Martin - as absolutely wonderful as he is - would not star in this feature. No.

This one needs to be written and directed by the likes of Quentin Tarantino, Stephen King and Martin Scorsese.

It would start with childbirth, of course, complete with poopy diaper blowouts, projectile vomiting, chapped nipples from breastfeeding, lower back pain, no sleep, high-pitched wailing at all hours of the night, teething, unsolicited advice from strangers... all the trappings of parenthood before this kid has their first birthday.

Then comes the toddler age, where you just can't have nice things. I used to have a lovely Willow Tree figurine my mother gave me. When my daughter was done with her, that figure looked as though she'd been in an unfortunate farming accident. There will be no more television for mom and dad. Nope. Just endless reruns of Spongebob Squarepants. Over, and over, and over....

Then comes potty training. While some kids are easier to train than others, there's always at least one kid who thinks it's fun to reach down into that pull-up and paint the walls with fecal "art".

Of course, we'll throw in a montage of temper tantrums, crying, wailing, whining, sobbing, etc... all set to Carl Orff's "O Fortuna"... a fitting soundtrack. This should get us to about age 7 or 8.

Those pre-teen years aren't too bad - assuming that parents haven't completely lost their minds by then. Kids will be in school, presumably. Unless, of course, you home school. I've never had that experience, and I'm sure it works for some folks, but since this is only one film, it would have to fit the majority. This would also begin the era of "activities" for kids. Soccer games, music lessons, scouts, play dates... that sort of thing.

Even if your kid isn't in any kind extracurricular program, they have kid friends. Sometimes those extra kids come to your house. Cue the Lego blocks spread over every square inch of your home. I hope you're wearing shoes.

Speaking of school... Are you in the middle of something important? Too bad. Here comes a call from the nurse. Your child has just thrown up. Time to go fetch them. And, while you're there, get ready for the oncoming guilt trip because you were in the middle of a business meeting instead of waiting in an already running vehicle ready to dash through traffic lights to care for your sick child. Oh, and they may or may not have head lice, as well.

Are you scared yet, kids? No? Here comes the good part.

Teenagers.

Yes. This is where the camera is pointed directly at their demographic. There are millions of them everywhere, with raging hormones and selective hearing. They all want to touch each other, and slobber on one another's faces, and display body parts under the school bleachers. A sea of pubescence. The Bank of Mom and Dad is empty and full of cobwebs because teenagers won't stop eating, and refuse to turn lights off when they leave a room.

Not to mention, you can forget buying anything for yourself. Nope. They'll be outgrowing every stitch of clothing so fast, there won't be anything left in the budget for you. Got a hole in your underwear? Too bad. You'll still have to wear them until they disintegrate entirely. Meanwhile, Junior needs new pants because he ripped his when they got stuck in the wheels of his skateboard going down McCormick street at warp speed.

They want to be treated like adults, but still act like toddlers when they don't get what they want. I know. I was one of them, once.

Yes, kids. Been there. Done that.

We could insert a second montage - to the same soundtrack as earlier - of similar temper tantrums, door slamming, whining, wailing, sobbing, "I hate you!", etc.

This film should end with a young man or woman waking up from this nightmare called parenthood. They're covered in a cold sweat, terrified. Then, they realize they're still lying in their designer sheets on expensive furniture in a quiet home. There's a college diploma framed neatly on the wall, certifying that they have the Coolest Job in the World. In the corner is a giant pile of cash at their disposal to spend on... well... whatever their heart desires.

This film could be the best birth control, ever.

*****

Now, don't get me wrong. I have my children, and I do enjoy having those wierdos around. Yes, parenting is difficult, but I can't imagine my life without them in it. I can't even begin to fathom how much more difficult it would have been if I'd been a mother in high school.

So, to all the kids out there that are listening, please take my advice: KEEP IT IN YOUR PANTS. NO TOUCHY! Figure out how to take care of YOURSELF before you bring another person into the world.

Namaste, Oh best beloved.