Before I became a parent, I was going to be the perfect parent. But alas, like so many other situations, I learned that my perception vs. reality is comparable to Lindsay Lohan’s… shit doesn’t add up.
Slightly less cocaine involved. Whenever I was casting self-righteous judgment from my childfree cannon of wisdom, my best friend used to look at me and say, “I can’t wait until you’re a mom.” Revenge is sweet, isn’t it.
I was a judgy little b. I went around waxing poetic about screens and the fundamental breakdown of “real play” in our culture. At the restaurant I work at, I scoffed at children who would only eat macaroni and cheese.
Parents who would order a deconstructed chicken sandwich and proceed to let their kids run around like it was a McDonald’s play place and not a whiskey bar. I’ve come close to dropping a few hot plates on a toddler in my day, and I would be lying if I told you that I didn’t want it to happen. School of hard knocks if you will.
Now that I am a parent, I realize that I was an idiot and I know nothing about anything whatsoever. With each passing day, I participate in some sort of behavior that I said I would never do. Ticking them off like it’s a bucket list for bad parents.
1. I will never let myself go.
I should note, in order to let yourself go, one must first have themselves together. That was never me. And to blame the fact that I haven’t washed my hair in 10 days on my kid is just disingenuous.
Now I realize that IF I wanted to wash my hair more than every 10 days, my kid would see to it that it wouldn’t be a possibility. I will say: I now am in awe of put together moms. And by awe I mean total annoyance.
2. My child will not watch TV or play with a screen of any sort.
Okkkayyyy. Good plan in theory, but execution? Nope. I’m just trying to survive over here and if Paw Patrol means that I only have to reheat my cup of coffee 5 times instead of 6, turn that shit up.
Specifically, I’d like to mention screen time in relation to eating out. If you have ever tried to eat out with a child that is your own, you too have experienced the boulder of anxiety placed on your chest the moment you walk into a restaurant.
It’s not a matter of if you’ll have to leave early, it’s more a question of at what point you’ll have to throw your credit card at your server and beg for to-go boxes.
That iPhone screen will potentially buy my husband or me a few uninterrupted bites – where I don’t so much as taste my food, but shove it forcefully into my mouth. It beats doing so while standing in my kitchen.
3. My child will not make a mess in a restaurant.
Actually, my child is going to make a huge mess. But I will try to clean up as much as possible and I will tip you well over 20%.
4. I’m not going to talk about my kid constantly.
This is one of those annoying ones, because even if you legitimately don’t want to talk about your child I’ve found it just happens. Having a kid is like doing cross fit and being a vegan, combined.
Trust me, I love Holiday and would sit you down in an interrogation room Law & Order style, holding you hostage, with a projector of all 1,345 phone pictures on loop… I just don’t have access to an interrogation room or a quality projector.
5. My child is never going to be in my bed with me.
My child was in my bed, until I sleep trained her and broke her spirit.
6. My child is going to have a well-developed palate – she will crave superfoods.
For the most part, my husband and I are conscious of what we put in our bodies (his at work vending machine purchases tell another story).
We indulge like all humans, but we try to keep it clean in our house… which is why I thought my child would follow suit. Kale ‘n stuff. Wrong. Despite my best efforts, there are days when my child’s menu includes French fries, still frozen Eggos, and cheddar by the block. It doesn’t matter if I put a veggie quiche in front of her; at the end of the day I need her to live. So that means calories with a side of GMOs and preservatives.
7. I will continue to have a social life.
HAHAHA. Nah, I’m definitely not coming to your party. I will still be pissed if I don’t get the courtesy invite though. An alternative: you could host your party at a super convenient location for me; Holiday maxes out at around 15 minutes of travel time. Even if I don’t bring her, I still do that weird check on her 37 times a night thing, so proximity is important.
8. I will be flexible and go with the flow.
There is no flow. Parenting is going as smoothly as when my high school boyfriend tried to teach me to drive a stick. The only thing we have figured out is her schedule. Live by the schedule, die by the schedule. Just this weekend my family wanted me to bring my kid to sushi for a 6:30pm reservation.
Right. I’ll just bring my child to some super trendy hotspot a half hour before her bedtime. Considering half of my childhood pictures have bongs and other paraphernalia featured in them, these requests don’t surprise me.
My mom’s signature grandparenting statement has been, “if she’s tired, she’ll sleep.” GTFOH. Hey guys, not sure if you knew… but it’s that simple. My mother also thinks that car seats are obsolete; if anyone is looking for a babysitter, I can give you her contact info.
9. I will continue to travel, my child will be cultured.
I wanted my child to eat Brie cheese and gaze upon the Andes. It took one trip to the grocery to store to realize that it would be some months before my child saw the outskirts of our town, let alone another country.
When Heather had her first child, I took it really personally that she never trekked her way over to the other side of the state to visit. Traveling with small children is a nightmare for a few reasons: 1) Despite popular belief, the car is not some magic sleep machine.
My kid mostly screams in her car seat. Now imagine strapping a toddler down for a 3 hour road trip. 2) Children require a lot of things (special cups, special snacks, special creams for their butt), you have to bring all of that. 3) Something about the angle in which they sit in a carseat makes poo explode out of their diaper. Physics is cool.
10. I will not ignore my child.
One thing that really got my goat pre-baby was when I saw parents ignoring their kids. You brought this little angel onto the planet and now you’re going to let her drown in the toilet bowl because you’re too busy refreshing Facebook? I was high and mighty until I realized that entertaining a child for 12 hours is a lot of fun, but also a lot of work.
Sure I get to stack blocks and give dolly a bath now, but by hour 7, I just can’t sip my pretend cup of tea with the same gusto.
Let me finish by saying, I realize that there are plenty of parents who are high achievers, cut from a different cloth.
I’m even willing to accept the possibility that I might just be an underachieving parent, or that some of these things fade out over time and you hit your parenting stride.
Regardless, I’m part of the club; upon admittance, I received a pair of droopy boobs and the distinct pleasure of dolling out, “Wait until you’re a parent.”