I think I flush the toilets in my house approximately 25 times a day. And I can count on one hand how many times I do it for myself. It seems like almost every time I walk into a bathroom, I find yet another un-flushed toilet. Often stuffed with the equivalent of an entire roll of toilet paper. All of this toilet activity is messy and inconvenient, and incredibly time consuming.
I now feel lucky if I’m summoned to help with personal hygiene. As unappealing as it may be—at least I’m given some control over how the room is left. Having potty-trained little ones at home has created an entire new category in my housekeeping duties. One that makes me consider adding the position of “janitor” to my professional resume. I think I’ve cleaned more toilets in the last year than I ever did in the previous ten.
Then I remember those years I had all three children in diapers.
Fondly.
I’m serious. For all of the talking people do about getting kids out of diapers, I am sorely disappointed by this much touted milestone. No one ever mentions what happens AFTER potty training. We’re led to believe that once our offspring learn to use the bathroom without M&M incentives, we will be freed from daily involvement with those particular bodily functions.
Not so much. And this is just ONE of the things that more experienced parents let you believe when you’re staggering through the obstacle course of new parent challenges. I guess they know that the idea of a finish line is what helps you get through the day. Keeps hope alive and all that.
But altruistic or not—they still withhold the truth. They let you believe that things will get better sooner as opposed to later. That your baby will be easier as they get older. That you won’t still be talking about poop and lack of sleep when your children enter elementary school….
The sleep thing is huge. I read three books in the two months after my oldest, Oliver, was born. One was a Girlfriend’s Guide to not stealing the closest vehicle and making a run for the Mexican border—or something like that. The other two were tomes as thick as my left thigh devoted to teaching your baby how to sleep through the night.
I often find it funny how we spend around 40 weeks waiting for our babies to be born, and then we spend the next 10+ years waiting for them to go to sleep. Maybe it’s the allure of “free time” to get things done around the house or to eat a meal without having to get up every five seconds…. Or maybe it’s the fact that we have such visceral memories about them not sleeping without a preparatory hour of rocking, shushing, pacing, pleading, bribing, weeping. But when those little eyelids finally do close in slumber, we all break into an internal Hallelujah chorus from Handel’s Messiah.
And in those early months of night feedings and pacifier searches, we yearn for the approaching age when “they’ll sleep through the night.” To which other parents will agree that, yes, it is very freeing to have children who don’t need to be soothed to sleep and to actually get a full eight hours in before the alarm clock buzzes.
Maybe some of them are lucky and they really are telling the truth…. But this hasn’t been my experience. Sure—there was a brief toddler period where they would be so exhausted from the busy day that they would crash at bedtime. And they even slept soundly until at least dawn. But sometime during preschool, I saw a shift.
While they didn’t need to be rocked to sleep, they did require extra books and music and glasses of water and one more good night kiss. They wouldn’t just pass out anymore. They would stand at the top of the stairs calling “MOMMY!” They would declare that there were monsters in the closet and noises outside the window. They would wake at 3:00 a.m. with nightmares. And they would crawl into bed with us.
And so continues our nocturnal life. I live in fear of what the coming night holds in store for me. It is just as common for me to wake up with three children in my bed as it is to wake up alone in one of theirs. You often hear about the “musical beds” game a family plays throughout the night. You never know where you’ll be when the music stops (driving many to musical meds—but that’s another subject altogether).
So just in case you were wondering, no, my children do not sleep through the night (at least, not all at the same time). As a result, neither do I.
Another baby-related issue with which all new parents have to contend is spit up. It’s neverending. Babies spit up after they eat…because they were jostled at bit…as the result of acid reflux…. It’s gross. And it smells. “But not to worry,” parents of older children will assure you, “Once your baby starts sitting up, the spit up will end.”
What they neglect to mention is that babies start sitting up roughly around the time that they start eating more solid food. Not just mushy rice cereal—which incidentally, bears a strong resemblance to spit up—but table food. Cubes of carrot and melon. Peas and tiny bits of meat. And teething cookies! All excellent items to induce gagging.
It takes a while for babies to learn how to eat real food, and no parent will escape that fun-filled learning curve. It usually involves some projectile vomit, or my personal favorite, the lying down puke that ends up on hair and inside ears.
And I most feel for those poor parents of toddlers like my twins, who shove fingers and spoons into their mouths to gag themselves on purpose.
Ever have three children with a stomach flu? Enough said.
No one ever tells you about the vomit.
We look forward to getting rid of that cumbersome stroller. But then we have to chase them around shopping malls or beg them to walk faster. Or even worse – carry them.
We long for a day when everyone can put on their own seatbelts. A state of affairs that ushers in an entirely new genre of nagging: “Did you put on your seat belt? Why aren’t you wearing your seatbelt? You ALWAYS wear a seatbelt! NEVER take off your seat belt while I’m driving! Get back into your seat and BUCKLE THAT SEATBELT!“
Finally – my own personal favorite, “When they can all dress themselves.” I now spend hours of my week begging people to put on pants or locked in battles of will regarding what classifies as an appropriate outfit: “It’s time to get dressed… Come on, we’re going to be late…Why aren’t you dressed, you’ve been upstairs for twenty minutes… No you can’t wear your party dress to the playground… You can’t go outside without pants… It’s too cold for a tank top… No – tights are NOT pants… WHERE ARE YOUR PANTS?”
Before having children who can dress themselves, we see other kids in the grocery store wearing tutus with jeans or layered shirts in the middle of August and we wonder, “What were those parents thinking?!” Well, they were probably thinking, “We’re ten minutes late and you’re no longer nude—let’s go!”
No one—not ONE friend ever warned me about these things.
Or maybe they did. Maybe I was just too focused on self-preservation to listen. But if they did try to tell me, they certainly didn’t force the issue.
So I put it all in the same category of non-disclosure. I never got the memo.
But there are some people out there who are more than happy to set you straight.
The most experienced of parents—the ones who have grown children, who have made it through all of the milestones and lived to tell the tale—will break code and provide you with at least one very specific insight into what the future holds.
Without a doubt, each and every one of those parents will tell you, “Just wait until they’re teenagers….”
Originally posted on Health News, HERE.
Agree, agree, agree! I tried commenting on the other site but it wouldn't let me.
I just tried following you on Pinterest but apparently it hates me.
Well for goodness sakes, this is a marvelous read! And it's all so true. What I am burning to learn is "how thick is your right thigh?" Weird question, I know. As for the sleeping thing, my youngest is nine and the bedtime thing is getting better and they mostly all sleep all night long and sleep in on weekends and holidays, too (such a treat!) but it was a long time coming.
I read this and LOL'd a lot. And then I told Brent that I was wonderfully reminded of why we're choosing to just have one. Haha!