It was me. I let them in and I make no apologies. I made the uniform before she was old enough to say "huntsman," "dwarves" or "Michael Eisner's marketing empire." I bought the videos. I spent the ten bucks at Home Depot and put the removable stickers up all over her room.

In my grey?hoodie?wearing?leatherman?carrying?aspiring? documentary?film?makering days, I swore that if I ever had children, they would not know what a Disney princess was, let alone have a room littered with them.

Then came an itty-bitty thing called reality.

Earlier today, I was playing "Pretty, Pretty Princess" on the floor with Gracie (I was TOTALLY winning...I had two earrings, a necklace and a ring. She only had two necklaces) when William walked into the room, chewing.

"What is William eating?" I called. "He's eating something?" was the response. "Yeah," I said. "He just walked in here chewing." "What does he have?" "Don't know," I said, inspecting his empty mouth. "It's gone now."

No worries. It was just what we've come to call Floor d'Oeuvres.

After Lucas was born, I was suddenly incapable of keeping up with mail, organizing bills, and the like. So what is my life like 2 years later? Well, take a look.

I have no idea how my kitchen counter got to look like this, but it does. Day after day. Month after month. And my dear husband signs up for so many free magazines, I need a separate table just to keep them on, because do you think he has time to read them all?

Here's my routine:

When I became a parent, I wasn't given a rule book. I was in desperate need of one. See, I'm not really a kid person. (You don't have to go back and look at my bio. I am the one with 5 kids. Let's just say God has a sense of humor.) I didn't babysit when I was younger because... see previous statement. I chose to teach high school and not elementary school because...you get the picture.

At every single phase in my children's' lives, I have been pretty clueless. Each of them threw a monkey wrench in what I read about in all of those parenting books. The terrible twos started at 18 months. The boys' energy could only compare to an endless NASCAR race. The girls' sensitivity levels are like being on a broken roller coaster with lots of loops and hills.

Even though this sounds like a day at the carnival, I've felt like a tentative participant standing at the entrance gate watching in awe — and sometimes watching in horror.

If you're anything like me, there is hope. This parenting thing comes with great on-the-job training. If you are still standing, then you have passed the first class. Give yourselves a pat on the back. No — go grab some chocolate. Now, know that one day, you will get a break in the clueless-ness. I've gotten my first one.

My oldest is 11 and a girl. After almost 12 years of not knowing what to do, I can finally say "Hey world, I got this!" I got this pre-adolescence, physically developing, emotionally unstable phase covered.

We've been fishless for months since my last attempt at explaining death to Laylee. For some reason, last week I decided we were ready to try it again. Please meet the newest member of our family:

Me: What should we call the fish?

Laylee: He's Jack again.

Me: Jack-Again? That's a funny name.

Laylee: Yeah. I called him that because he's Jack... Again.

You see, Laylee is a strong believer in resurrection... resurrection and cloning... by a God who drives a car, sneaks around in the dark like the tooth-fairy, and can be enticed to do your bidding if you simply use "the magic word."

While my two children are on vacation in Greece, I've had the rare experience of parenting three children. The temporarily oldest child is my 6-year-old son, Kiserian, who loves being the "big" brother of my 4-year-old daughter and my 20-month-old son. Since we're preparing to start school again, I engage them for about 25 minutes with a few worksheets and a couple of coloring pages. We were fine until a weird thing happened.

Son: "Mommy, look, look in the [news] paper. I can read this word...fff-am-ee-lee. Family."

Of course, I jump for joy as his mom AND his teacher.

Me: "I am so proud of you. You go boy. I think that this deserves a victory dance."

Yes, we dance this funky dance that's a combination twist, cha-cha, hustle with an occasional breakdance move by my son.

While we are having our victory dance moment, my 4-year-old is sitting in a corner with her head buried in her knees. I knew where this was going.

Me: "Honey, what's the matter with you?"

Kitchen or kids: It's the proposition that follows dinner each night in our house. It basically means, "Do you want to clean up the post-dinner mess or kick-start the kids' PM routine?" Don't jump too quickly, as there is no easy answer.

Answering "kitchen" could mean scrubbing a mountain of dishes and/or pots and pans, plus cutlery, the counter tops, the table and so on. With some luck, the dishwasher will actually be empty (a rarity), the trash can won't be overflowing (an unparalleled event) and the evening's "chef" would have tidied up as the cooking went along (a bona-fide miracle).

Selecting "kids" is even riskier.

It's about time I admit to something.  I.  Hate.  The.  Way.  I.  Look.  Now, I'm not throwing this out there because I want a pity party or anything.  I'm hoping that putting the words on "paper," in black and white, will motivate me to actually do something about it, instead of talking about doing something about it.

So, here's how I got to where I am today.  I call it the "Mommy Weight Trap™"(MWT).  Formally defined, the MWT is when you are svelte before you get pregnant, don't lose all of the baby weight from baby #1 before getting pregnant with baby #2, and then gain a whole lotta weight with baby #2, before ending up with an unrecognizable rotund physique.

For those of you who prefer numbers, or who prefer to read scary, shocking, horror stories, I started out at x (what, you expected me to announce to the world how much I weighed?!?!?!), never lost the final 17 pounds from Lucas when I got pregnant with Justin, and now have 20 pounds to lose from Justin.  17 + 20 = 37, which I am going to round up to 40 pounds for dramatic effect.  That's a whopping FORTY (40) POUNDS — OH MY GOD WHAT HAVE I DONE!!!!

Welcome to The Parenting Post — Parenting.com's brand new blog!

We, the editors of Parenting.com, scoured the blogosphere for moms and dads who blogged about parenthood with wit, sincerity, and self-deprecation — and who were good storytellers to boot. Now we're thrilled to introduce the five who've joined us at The Parenting Post. Meet:

• Daring Young Mom, mastering motherhood (and Candyland) in the suburbs of Seattle;
• Damomma, trying to stay sane with her cast of characters at La Casa Loony Tunes;
• dahGurl, homeschooling a brood of five — count 'em, five! — in Baltimore;
• Booby Juice, working, pumping, and raising four cats, two dogs, and two little boys;
• And Daddy Daze, who’s not so daddy-dazed that he can’t tie a pretty pigtail.

We're giving our bloggers free reign; their voices are their own. They've written three weeks' worth of posts for us, and already they've covered everything from funny car smells and the misuse of Band-Aids to critters under the stove and laundry-folding woes. We invite you to follow along every day as they tell their latest tales. Enjoy!

From the editors of Parenting.com

They say "the apple doesn't fall far from the tree" and there are days when that thought scares me just a bit.

Actual cell phone conversation dramatically transcribed for your enjoyment...from memory...three days later:

[Standing in front of the iPod display at Target]

Me: I came to Target to get some ear buds.

Dan: Okay.

Me: I'm in the electronics section.

Dan: [silence]

Me: [silence except for the kids making motorboat noises in the cart]

Dan: Okay.

Me: I thought I would look for a cheap, like disposable-cheap, MP3 player. You know how they had those the day after Thanksgiving?

Dan: Uh-huh.

Me: They don't really have any of those today.

Dan: Uh-huh.

Me: They have iPods. Remember how I want an iPod Nano but we can so not afford one right now but I said I didn't like the Shuffle because it was lame?