Oh, parenting. I, for one, was an incredible parent before actually becoming one. I remember scoffing at people who treated nap time like the second coming of Jesus, thinking stupidly and arrogantly, “my kid will just adapt to my schedule, or learn to sleep on the go. Obviously.” HA! HAHA! In hindsight this couldn’t be funnier, as we now have a kid who has such fussy sleep patterns, I would actually prevent the second coming of Jesus if I thought it was going to wake her up. Before becoming a parent, I was a fountain of ignorant things. Here are just a few:
1. I will never say “No.” No is bad! No is negative! Just saying “no” isn’t as effective at teaching them why they can’t do it! Turns out, no is impossible not to say. It flies out of my mouth before I even know what I’m saying, often in rapid fire succession, as I turn to catch her perched precariously on a shelf, clutching a chopstick she’s dug out of a drawer somewhere, that she is now using to point to her eye with. No is not my favorite, but no happens.
2. We will never use the iPad to distract our kid. I used to roll my eyes and think letting a kid play with a phone or iPad during travel or while enduring a long wait somewhere was lazy. Then I had a kid who won’t tolerate a car ride longer than 30 minutes without screaming to the point of hyperventilating. I get it, now. I get it.
3. We will not let her keep us in. Forget her keeping us in. I have a rule in the house, which is if I’m not wearing a bra by noon, I’m not going to put one on. I am so tired. It’s so much work to go out. I love in. In is in, and she’s just a convenient excuse.
4. She will eat what we eat, when we eat, at the table. Another pipe dream. We don’t have a table. We eat things other than macaroni. We don’t want to eat dinner at 5 every day. Some day this will be true, but for now, I’m just happy if she eats.
5. We will not let our kid watch TV. Oooh, we were so cute in our naivety. TV is poor people’s childcare. There, I said it. Sometimes you need 30 minutes to do something without someone dangling off your back pockets screaming at you. Do I let her watch re-runs of The Maury Povich Show? No. But I have a hard time believing that an episode of Sesame Street now and again is going to cause irreparable mental harm.
6. I will not have a kid who always has crap all over her face. Kids, it turns out, are kind of gross. They produce liquids out of any and all orifices at an astounding rate, and on a rare dry day, they will still certainly have ample opportunity to dribble, smear or paint their faces with any number of liquefied food products. Couple this with Baby 1.0’s reaction to me trying to wipe her face (picture someone trying to fight off a swarm of bees, while simultaneously attempting to do the hula), and she almost always has at least one crusty patch of something somewhere above her neck.
7. I will always find time to shower, dress, and brush my teeth in the morning. There are days where this happens early, there are days when this happens late, and there are days where this doesn’t happen at all. You don’t have to tell me I’m gross. I know it.
8. I won’t dress my girl in all pink. This one is extra stupid. I would dress her in all puce if that was the color people gave us. She looks cute in pink, she would look cute in puce. In my mind, the color I put her in will in no way, shape, or form, dictate anything about her personality in the end.
9. I won’t get all weird and attached to her toys and clothes. This one I need to work on. Her itty bitty baby clothes, that used to cover her itty bitty baby body, will never leave my possession. And neither will anything that I have a memory of her playing with, because obviously, part of her soul is now attached to these items. So back off, Judgy McJudgerson, and leave me here to sit in the closet huffing onesies in an attempt to smell her newborn smell just one more time.
10. I will not let Baby 1.0 use my jeans as a napkin. Who am I kidding? Considering the alternative of wearing a body suit made out of paper towels has yet to be invented, I will let Baby 1.0 use my jeans as a napkin, and I won’t think twice about it until I go out into public with 1/4 cup of dried yogurt smeared on my inner thigh. Then I will wish, yet again, that someone would invent a body suit made out of paper towels.
There are more things I said I wouldn’t do that I now do daily. So many more. Oodles and boodles. A truly shameful amount. But enough about me, I want to hear about you! What did you say you’d never do that you now do all the time?