Honest Parenting Books
A few years ago, shortly after Beaner crashed into our world, I had a bit of a meltdown. Parenting had always been a daunting task for me, but with two kids I was drowning. I'm not saying I had it worse than most, but I wasn't good at it to begin with, and now I sucked twice as much. I was referred to a local group of... psychologists and therapists. Like, a whole room of them. Six total, all there to listen to what I had to say and to help me see that what was happening in my life is part of a larger dynamic of family life that has burdened moms and dads alike since the dawn of time. I wasn't alone, and I wasn't crazy. Though it did take a panel of experts to convince me.
While I sat there, Beaner bouncing happily on my lap as I cried, pouring out all my frustrations on the table, an older woman who had once been the head ObGyn at our local hospital reached to me and took my hand. "You're a good mom," she said. This seemed out of place, since I'd been complaining about how our vacuum was always on the fritz, but she seemed to know what was really bothering me. "I can tell that you're a good mom. Do you know how?" I shook my head. "Look at your baby," she told me.
Beaner was smiling at everyone, chewing on an award-winning, multi-sensory soft toy, dressed in an adorable ensemble from Gymboree with matching Robeez on his feet. He was bald where I had rubbed off some cradle cap, but otherwise he was the vision of a well-cared for baby. "He..." I began. I had no idea what I was supposed to see.
"He's smiling," the retired doctor coaxed me. "Why is he smiling?"
I sputtered - I'd read this somewhere - let me see. "He's... it's the thing.. babies smile to get their parent's attention... it's a survival instinct..."
"He's smiling because he's happy," the doctor said, losing patience. "That's how I know you're a good mom - your baby is happy."
"Oh." Of course. But I had nothing to do with that. I'm pretty sure I hadn't smiled in weeks. I feebly muttered something about what the parenting books say.
"The problem with today's parents," the doc interrupted, slapping her hand on the table. "Is that they read too many damn parenting books."
She was too right. I can't claim that things turned around for me on that day, but life has - slowly but surely - gotten easier. And that is due in part to letting go of caring so much about getting it right. Parenting books promise too much, and the expectations we put on ourselves to fulfill their prophecies can be crippling. I could have used more practical warnings and fewer instructions on how to be perfect. For instance:
Everything You Love Will Get Peed On
Seriously, it will. And you can't Scotch Guard your life because that shit is not organic. Best get used to living in a home that would fail a visit from the Department of Health.
How to Live a Full Life While Stuck in a Car: from desperately hoping the baby doesn't wake to waiting for the damn game to end
I spend as much time in my car each day as I do in my living room. Yes, it's got a high safety rating, but more importantly - it has four cup holders per passenger.
Batteries are a Mom's Best Friend (Not in that way, you perve. And anyways, I'm too tired)
If you know someone who is having a new baby the best gift you can give them is batteries and an odd-sized screwdriver set. I'm not kidding.
1,001 Excuses for Shirking PTA Duty
I'm pretty sure PTA presidents are coached in making people feel guilty. There is just no appeasing them. Sure, I've got a babe dangling from a nipple and a toddler pouring sand in my boots - but that shouldn't stop me from chaperoning the school's Silent Auction Dance Off Bake Sale End-of-Year Awards Talent Show.
MILF is a Compliment (and other weird middle age changes)
I don't actually want to be the hot mom the teen boys day dream about and the neighbor wives hate.
But I do, because my sexuality is now a matter of hoping my boobs don't sag below my belly button. And that stings.
I Used to Do Stuff: a memior
We had non-child burdened friends for dinner a while back and they were discussing a new singer-songwriter they like. I had been silent all evening but suddenly piped up: "Oh! I know that person! He was on Elmo!"
Well, he was.
When You Gotta Go: Tips & tricks for using public restrooms with young children
Sometimes, when I see those signs that say "We take pride in our appearance! Please alert the staff if you are unsatisfied with the condition of this restroom" I am tempted to throttle someone whilst screaming "You lie! LIE!"
When You Gotta Go: Tips & Tricks for using public restrooms with young children, part II
If the kids don't push the door wide open for everyone to see you, they will at least tell everyone in the store what you did.
While I sat there, Beaner bouncing happily on my lap as I cried, pouring out all my frustrations on the table, an older woman who had once been the head ObGyn at our local hospital reached to me and took my hand. "You're a good mom," she said. This seemed out of place, since I'd been complaining about how our vacuum was always on the fritz, but she seemed to know what was really bothering me. "I can tell that you're a good mom. Do you know how?" I shook my head. "Look at your baby," she told me.
Beaner was smiling at everyone, chewing on an award-winning, multi-sensory soft toy, dressed in an adorable ensemble from Gymboree with matching Robeez on his feet. He was bald where I had rubbed off some cradle cap, but otherwise he was the vision of a well-cared for baby. "He..." I began. I had no idea what I was supposed to see.
"He's smiling," the retired doctor coaxed me. "Why is he smiling?"
I sputtered - I'd read this somewhere - let me see. "He's... it's the thing.. babies smile to get their parent's attention... it's a survival instinct..."
"He's smiling because he's happy," the doctor said, losing patience. "That's how I know you're a good mom - your baby is happy."
"Oh." Of course. But I had nothing to do with that. I'm pretty sure I hadn't smiled in weeks. I feebly muttered something about what the parenting books say.
"The problem with today's parents," the doc interrupted, slapping her hand on the table. "Is that they read too many damn parenting books."
She was too right. I can't claim that things turned around for me on that day, but life has - slowly but surely - gotten easier. And that is due in part to letting go of caring so much about getting it right. Parenting books promise too much, and the expectations we put on ourselves to fulfill their prophecies can be crippling. I could have used more practical warnings and fewer instructions on how to be perfect. For instance:
Everything You Love Will Get Peed On
Seriously, it will. And you can't Scotch Guard your life because that shit is not organic. Best get used to living in a home that would fail a visit from the Department of Health.
How to Live a Full Life While Stuck in a Car: from desperately hoping the baby doesn't wake to waiting for the damn game to end
I spend as much time in my car each day as I do in my living room. Yes, it's got a high safety rating, but more importantly - it has four cup holders per passenger.
Batteries are a Mom's Best Friend (Not in that way, you perve. And anyways, I'm too tired)
If you know someone who is having a new baby the best gift you can give them is batteries and an odd-sized screwdriver set. I'm not kidding.
1,001 Excuses for Shirking PTA Duty
I'm pretty sure PTA presidents are coached in making people feel guilty. There is just no appeasing them. Sure, I've got a babe dangling from a nipple and a toddler pouring sand in my boots - but that shouldn't stop me from chaperoning the school's Silent Auction Dance Off Bake Sale End-of-Year Awards Talent Show.
MILF is a Compliment (and other weird middle age changes)
I don't actually want to be the hot mom the teen boys day dream about and the neighbor wives hate.
But I do, because my sexuality is now a matter of hoping my boobs don't sag below my belly button. And that stings.
I Used to Do Stuff: a memior
We had non-child burdened friends for dinner a while back and they were discussing a new singer-songwriter they like. I had been silent all evening but suddenly piped up: "Oh! I know that person! He was on Elmo!"
Well, he was.
When You Gotta Go: Tips & tricks for using public restrooms with young children
Sometimes, when I see those signs that say "We take pride in our appearance! Please alert the staff if you are unsatisfied with the condition of this restroom" I am tempted to throttle someone whilst screaming "You lie! LIE!"
When You Gotta Go: Tips & Tricks for using public restrooms with young children, part II
If the kids don't push the door wide open for everyone to see you, they will at least tell everyone in the store what you did.
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