A few weeks ago, I wrote a blog describing what I said to be the WORST part of parenthood. I still believe that blog to be the hands-down absolute truth, but I’ve come to realize something since then. There are things that parenthood straight up changes about our lives, and then there are side effects that it causes. They sound similar, but they are very different, and they are VERY real.
For example: Parenthood changes how much time you have to do anything other than take care of your kid. That CAUSES us to have zero social life. Or social skills. Or friends. Or sanity. See? Different!
So, while I still totally believe that (spoiler alert here for those who haven’t read the blog I mentioned/linked above) making mom friends is the HARDEST thing about being a parent- the worst side-effect has recently come to light. And I’m not a fan.
Here’s where I could easily go into a rant about stretch-marks, waterbed-belly, weird-boob, the fact that feet seem to grow a size with every child (I thought it was the nose that was supposed to do that shit? No one told me I’d become Sasquatch), or any number of other unpleasant things that seem to happen to us physically and psychologically once we are
cursed blessed with crotchfruit of our very own- but I’d be wrong.
It all started on Saturday night. This wasn’t a special night; just a regular run-of-the-mill Saturday since kids, full of grocery shopping and errand running and whining and complaining. We were all finally winding down, waiting for dinner to finish in the oven, when a friend posed a question.
“So, have any fun plans for the night?”
Hm. What ARE my plans? Do I even have plans? When is the last time I actually MADE plans for a Saturday night?
“My plans are to put the kids to bed, watch Netflix, and try not to fall asleep before 10pm”
That was me answer, and that was the complete truth. Yes, kids can be exhausting, but once you get to them to an age where they don’t need you every moment of every single day, sleep becomes just a little bit easier, and the exhaustion either fades, or you learn to run on very little fuel. Right?? I sure thought so. I get more sleep, there’s less insanity and stress and all the things that come with babies and toddling and baby proofing and potty training. I should look 10 years younger! Instead, every single night, I find myself FIGHTING to stay awake once the clock hits 9:30pm.
I’ve missed the ends to the season finales of my favorite shows. Important plot points in movies. Who the hell won the best actor/actress/whattthehellever award at whatever award show I’m watching. Even the end of The Sound of Music- GASP! Julie Andrews doesn’t put ANYONE to sleep by accident (she could do it on purpose if she wanted!). No matter how hard I try, I simply CANNOT keep my eyes open. It’s completely ridiculous. I’ve been a night owl my entire life, staying up until the wee hours of the morning, able to function on little to no sleep and then pull a 10+ hour shift at work without collapsing. Now? I can’t even watch an episode of Parenthood without embarrassingly having to jerk my head back up repeatedly because I can’t stop dozing.
Sure, as a parent, I miss the amount of sleep I used to be able to get (say, any amount of time after the hours of THEBUTTCRACKOFDAWN), and I definitely assumed going into parenthood that the thing I’d miss the MOST is sleep itself, but what I miss more is the AWAKE. I MISS BEING ABLE TO STAY AWAKE!
It’s like I went from 0 – 80 overnight… Only.. I don’t know if it was overnight because I can’t remember- because since having my kids, my mind bailed along with my ability to stay awake. DAMN KIDS!
Every. Single. Time. pic.twitter.com/aAAWWjdrN3
I'm either "I HAVE 3 FRIES LEFT DON'T TOUCH MY PLATE!" or "Please take this so I can't eat any more of it!" There is no in-between.
Dear people writing articles on ways to get siblings to get along, I'll save you the time. The answer is "Don't let them play together"
Please stop Complimenting my kids’ “Good” Behavior goo.gl/fb/rwfojS
Hard pass from me pic.twitter.com/VayvW1eopK
I've gotten to the point where I'd let my kids summon a demon with a Ouija board before I'd let them play Monopoly together again.