Parenting is a lot like the latest Blockbuster: you know you should be enjoying it, but secretly you're glad when it's over.
You should consider the life you had before you decided to reproduce a random selection of your genes in hopes that a freaky, but oddly strong mutation in your genome will advance all of human kind (hey, maybe your ability to stare for hours at videos of turtles orgasming will become of crucial importance down the road of human evolution).
Now, if you're anything like us, the writers of cracked, you probably have to use a stick to shove aside all the hot women that lounge half-naked on your Porches and BMWs.
Sure it's cool at first, but after a while it just gets annoying.
Well, if you do decide to inject your man-juice into a female of the same species as you, say goodbye to that crazy, bachelor lifestyle. Babies are notoriously allergic to the booze, speed, cocaine and eskimo urine we all use on a daily basis to get the "creative juices" flowing. Also you can throw away your gun, sword and medieval torturing machines, becuase kids love nothing more than to die while under your supervision so that you can go to jail for parental neglect.
In fact, do you remember how ninjas could kill you with every object in your room? Babies are exactly the opposite of that. Get ready to install a safety seat on your toilet and fluffy, fuzz-balls on the prongs of your forks, because babies are basically wound sponges.
Also your car will look like this.
As for that hot woman you used to make passionate love to? Well, she's a mother now, so she probably looks like this:
Remember, a Porsche doesn't have enough room for your new family. You can trade it in for a nice Dodge.
Hey, you know who's not getting lucky tonight? You, because little Tyke is sleeping in your bed as his new $2,450 crib apparently has monsters under it. Don't worry, he's gotten really good about not peeing during the night. Now, there's actually about a 50/50 chance of waking up dry.
But women, cars, dry pants, all of these are just minor things in the grand scheme of life. What do they matter when you still have your job, writing internet comedy or playing as a professional ping-pong player in the Olympics. Then again, have you seen how much a kid costs (not if you were to sell it on eBay, which is apparently illegal, but to raise it as your own little minion)?
Ten times more than a poop kilogram.
Welcome to the world of the poor. Get ready to work three jobs and sell a lung so that junior can go to college and never return your calls. And God forbid you actually try to buy your kids love and respect with gifts, because those little clones of yourself can have pretty expensive tastes.
Then there's always Toys R' Us if you want to hear the story of how they got a "stupid" Elmo doll, for the rest of your life.
On the flip side once the fruit of your loins has kids of his own you can tell them where to find their dad's Playboy's stash. We know it's a small joy, but life is what you make it.