I have thought about writing a parenting book for a long time, and toyed with various ideas for expressing my views.
The format I kept coming back to was poetry.
I have always enjoyed creating rhymes, and often find myself composing verse in my head. I felt compiling a bunch of short poems on the various aspects of motherhood would resonate best with my audience.
Before children, I had no idea how lucky I was to be able to use the bathroom in peace and privacy. Ah, to just use the toilet with nobody pounding on the door or screaming for you the whole time. Those were the days.
Once I had kids, I soon learned peeing with the door closed is a luxury reserved for those without kids. Any attempt to shut the door and do my business was thwarted by the blood-curdling screams of tiny humans who couldn’t handle me “disappearing” for five minutes.
Small children have no concept of time, so whether their parents go on a trip for a week, or to work for several hours, their reaction is pretty much the same every time: flip the eff out. For some reason, however, when their parents decide to spend a few minutes in the bathroom, these little ones really lose their shit.
I mean it is just bonkers the reaction tiny tots have to the simple act of a grownup trying to use the facilities.They scream and panic as if they are being tortured, and because no parent wants to be accused of torture, we often settle for peeing with the door open.
But, when parents do decide to bravely shut the bathroom door for some much needed solace, where do the concerned babies and toddlers think we disappear too?
I have some theories:
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One parenting joy is the ability to bitch about the difficulty of raising a (insert age of child here). New parents struggle to stay sane while caring for a helpless, poop-machine. Toddler parents contend with tantrums, crayon murals and picky eating. School-age kids bring constant questions and whining. And, the adolescent years? Yeah, not even gonna touch that.
Seems almost every stage of parenthood has its challenges. So, is there an age when things are not so bad, or even great?
After nearly five years of completely unscientific research, I have concluded the period between four and six months is the most pleasant age for children.
Mark Zuckerberg, recently shared the news (on Facebook, what else?} of his wife’s pregnancy, noting he and Priscilla Chan had been trying for a long time to conceive, and offering encouragement to other couples with similar fertility challenges.
Elite Daily published an article purportedly celebrating the coolness of Millenial moms, and proclaimed that these Gen Y ladies are “killing it.”
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