I have had a blog idea in my head for like 2 weeks but just haven’t written it. Cuz I’m lazy.
Anyway, before I lose it (even more), here it is.
So a couple weeks ago, one of my friends on Babycenter was mocking a woman from another birth board (birth board = web community of moms and dads having a baby in a certain month and year, such as April 2008 or May 2010) who was touting her parenting methods down to the letter. All natural, all attachment, all perfect.
Funny thing, her baby isn’t due for 2 months.
That’s why we were mocking her.
We all think we know what kind of parent we will be, or at least what kind we hope to be. I mean, who hasn’t been at the store and seen the screaming toddler and the disheveled mom screaming/beating/bribing said child to no avail? And before I had Declan, I know I always rolled my eyes a little, thinking “God, what a brat…” Now when that happens, I’m either A) trying to avoid screaming at/beating my own child or B) smiling, nodding and offering the “Honey, I know… I know…” look at the poor woman. I swore I’d never be “that” mom, but guess what? We all are.
I swore I’d breastfeed. I didn’t. I swore I’d never stay home with my child. I am. I swore I’d never talk about my child ad nauseum to any person that would listen. Well, you are reading this, aren’t you?
So this poor woman that we were mocking online thought she had it ALL figured out. Her “signature” on the web site listed her as an “Cloth-Diapering, Extended Rear-Facing (car seat), Extended Breastfeeding, Baby Food Making, Plastic-Avoiding, Natural Child Birth Practicing” mom.
My prediction: She will go into labor and will wait a long time before going in because she’s doing Labor Yoga or having sex or something, but when the pain is too intense and she goes to her birthing center/Navajo Tee-Pee, either she’ll need an emergency C-section because the baby is stuck or she’ll need pitocin and will demand an epi.
Once the baby is here and properly positioned in the papoose, he/she will have a bad latch (probably from the traumatic labor). She’ll try and try but after some time, the nurses will insist he gets formula. She kinda enjoys the break, so she lets them.
They get home, and they try to co-sleep in their hut, but the baby is colicky and screams all night. Eventually, baby goes to his room and crib, so mommy can sleep. The only thing that makes baby happy is a Nuk Binkie.
Mommy becomes so tired and frustrated with trying to breastfeed the baby that she starts going through the drive-thru for every meal. A friend brings over a giant Little Einstein excersaucer, full of plastic and BPA objects, and the baby LOVES it. He also loves the videos, and mommy discovers she can nap while he’s in it.
Fast forward 3 years, and the kid is decked out in Bob the Builder overalls, wearing Mickey Mouse crocs and sits in front of SpongeBob all day before playing with his Leapster and eating chicken nuggets and Kraft Mac and Cheese for dinner.
Call me a cynic, but trying to decide the kind of mother you’ll be before having kids is like trying to predict the weather 10 years in advance. It’s stupid.