The sight of sunburn on your children brings a tear to your eye. You feel the need to explain to everyone you see that you *did* apply SPF 50, and that the water must have washed off the "Super Water Resistant" sunscreen in the first 10 minutes you were at the beach.
There's always someone around to help you stir your coffee.
You can't count the number of hours you've spent scouring the house for piggies, blankets, and other essential bedtime items. Ironically, they are always within arms reach during the day...but bedtime rolls around and they are nowhere to be found.
When crunched for time (and sometimes just because), poptarts and honey buns are perfectly acceptable breakfast choices.
You've wrestled a wily
You remember all of the "nevers" you muttered before you had kids, when you only had one, and before you had three, and you're able to smile at your ignorance.
The speed at which you're able to get from the car to the destination seems to be inversely proportional to how hard it is raining. You used to be able to run between the rain drops. Not so much with kids.
When someone wants to hold your baby, the disclaimer "she may spit-up on you" automatically comes out of your mouth.
You've become an amazing estimator of how big your kids will be in a year in order to capitalize on end-of-season clearances.
You get offended when you share a story about your children, and the listener replies with, "Yeah, I know exactly how you feel. My dogs do the same thing."