“We all expect the pleasantries of children, don’t we? We want miniature versions of ourselves.
Little lives to love, nurture and grow. I mean, how hard is it to feed, love and change them?
And we just know our kids will be amazing, and we can do it better than other parents.
BUT NO, YOU WON’T, BECAUSE YOU HAVE NO IDEA. NONE.
It’s not JUST the bloody pleasantries, is it? There’s a whole big Ariel’s grotto of crazy crap attached.
There’s tongue ties, sacral dimples, clicking hips, lopsided heads because listening to 30 minutes of blood curdling screams isn’t enough to make sure your baby doesn’t look like ‘Hey Arnold’.
Specialist appointments, adenoids, grommets. Oh my!
Speech pathologists, because little Ronny says f*ck instead of truck. You’re literally making it rain money on these people.
Colds, ear aches, CONSTIPATION! Have you ever pulled a hard log out of a babies’ bum with your bare hands? I have. I’ve seen the devil, my friends. It was ugly.
GASTRO. Your child is power vomiting all over you and you’re trying to catch it like a baseball.
And God forbid any of that makes you tired, GOD FORBID! Because sensible Susan will start giving you her ‘be grateful’ advice.
You can’t even cut their toe nails because the little turds don’t keep still, and you end up cutting off half their foot while they kick you in the face and there is blood everywhere and you’re both crying.
And my husband asks, ‘What have you done?,’ and I said, ‘I cut her toe nail,’ and he asks, ‘With what? A hacksaw?’
Who signs up for that? WHO tell me? I’ll slap them.
And that last bit of solidarity you find is in your dear Facebook groups, your social media parenting sites where you tell them you found some cute shoes for $2 and you want to share the bargain – help a mama out – but instead, you’re sancti-mommied by Gretel who says, ‘What kind of mother buys her child $2 shoes?’
Me. ME.
But at the end of the day, that beautiful child is there sitting and playing with a cardboard box from a $200 toy you bought and you look into their big beautiful eyes, spread your arms out to give them a big warm hug and they look up at you with the most disdain and say, ‘I hate you. Go away!’
And that is your reward, my friends. That is your reward.
Cheers to the most selfless and most loving job we will ever do. Wouldn’t have it any other way. And I’m totally being sincere in that.”
This story was submitted to Love What Matters by Laura Mazza of Mum on the Run, where it originally appeared. Submit your story here, and subscribe to our best love stories here.
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