"I just peed on you. Haha, no big deal, right?"
When you are pregnant, people-and by people I mean crazy people, come out of the wood work like Zombies during the Apocalypse to give you advice on parenting. Most of what they tell you is complete bullshit. Things like "Oh if you let your baby sleep in a yellow room they'll go insane" or "Immunizations are good for children" Occasionally they drop a little nugget of knowledge that may at some point be actually useful, like "Don't let your kids eat fire." And you're like 'Oh, thank you random crazy fucking stranger, I will definitely keep that in mind"
But! There are so many things that no one tells you, not even the people you think you can count on for sound parenting advice like your pediatrician, your mother, an older sister who's had children, etc. There are just some secrets to motherhood that are not bestowed upon you until that beautiful little human rips its way out of your baby maker, and forever changes your life.
You don't need a crib until the kid is sleeping through the night. Yep. You know that beautiful, cherry wood crib with the super cutsie bumper and blankies and the ability to adjust the mattress to like 9 million heights, that cost you over a thousand dollars? Don't need it. Co-Sleeping makes your life so much easier until your kids starts legitimately sleeping through the night, at which point something much cheaper and toddler friendly is fine, cuz more than likely, your kid is almost 1 if not 1 already.
You will never use the bathroom by yourself again. Apparently once you become a parent you lose even the most basic of human rights, and are instantly reverted to the rights most prisoners in this country can expect on a good day. You get a toilet, but you don't get to use it alone. Ever. And I know, there is some single, childless asshole out there reading this going "Just lock the door, problem solved, duh." Well, first of all, single childless asshole, fuck you. You don't have kids, your life still rules. Second of all, have you ever tried to take a piss with someone sitting outside the door screaming, crying like they're being eaten alive by a velociraptor and banging on the door? No? Well now try shitting while that's going on. Not. Fucking. Pleasant.
Welcome to Judgment Town, Population: Every Asshole in the World. Judgment is something you can come to expect from just about everyone. Every woman you meet will have an opinion about how you raise your children-STARTING WITH PREGNANCY. Yes, didn't you know, you can be pregnant wrong? You can do it wrong. That's right. And the judgment fest is not limited to women who have children, it is open to pretty much any creature with a vagina who thinks they know something about kids. Guess what? They don't know shit about your kid, and unless you're Britney Spears or Courtney Love, you're probably doing ok, so tell 'em to go suck it.
Someone Will Always Be Touching You, and their hands will never be clean. There will constantly be some body part belonging to a small child touching some part of your body at. all. times. When you sleep, your child will get into your bed and subsequently throw elbows, knees, hands and even their large bulbous heads all over you. All night long. Any time you are eating or drinking anything that is hot, and could potentially scald your child, they not only wish you touch you, but be ALL UP IN YOUR FACE and on your body, and generally in any small space between you and your scalding hot food item, until they burn themselves. Then everyone looks at you like you're the asshole.
Say Goodbye to the Hours Between 4 and 8 p.m. Otherwise known in any house that contains children as The Witching Hour. These are the hours when your children basically become tiny little demons with sticky hands who demand shit and throw things, and will not for the LOVE OF GOD GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE KITCHEN WHILE YOU'RE COOKING BEFORE THEY KNOCK SOMETHING OVER AND BURN THEMSELVES. You will never want to have a friend stop by after work during these hours. You will not be able to accept phone calls, respond to text messages or have any other contact with the outside world during this time, or your demon children will burn the house down, and eat your fucking soul. Seriously.
Motherhood is Really Fucking Wet. All. The. Time. And it starts with pregnancy. Your nose is stuffy, but now you drool in your sleep, you sweat like a Russian playing field hockey in Phoenix, you pee constantly, sometimes on yourself or others, and you cry uncontrollably. Plus, there is probably some kind of wet food stain on you, somewhere that you can't see because your belly is massive. When you're in labor, there are so many kinds of wetness that occur, I will not for the sake of all that is good and holy in the world list them. Once you are a new mommy, your boobs leak, you have night sweats, you're still fucking drooling, you're bleeding and crying even harder than you did before. Plus, at some point, this creature will vomit all over you. Probably in public. And it never gets better. I have a 3 year old. I don't know how many times I touch the back of my thigh, or my left eyebrow, only to discover a mashed up, half chewed piece of food from my son, somehow stuck there. And of course, it's wet. I walk across my hardwood floors to find stepped on grapes under my bare feet that my son stomped on during "Jedi Time" or a puddle of something you hope to God is water. The wetness is everywhere. It never goes away.
Meet Your New Best Friends: Shame and Guilt. They're snobby bitches too who come over to play way too often. Didn't pack your kid a lunch for the field trip cuz you forgot? Meet guilt. Show up 20 minutes late for your parent teacher conference in stained yoga pants with your 3 year old in tow because life just sucks like that sometimes? Meet shame. Have 2-or 6 glasses of wine with dinner because you're ready to furking snap? Meet shame AND guilt. Send the kids to bed without a bath because it's been the longest day ever, you have 8 million more things to do and you're already on the verge of tears? Meet shame again. It never stops.
The important thing is that you love your kids, like I love my kids. This job is never easy, and sometimes I wonder if I was truly cut out for it. But my kids are my world, even if at the end of the day that means I live in a much more messy, sticky, wet, loud, chaotic, temper tantrumy, wine filled world, fine by me.
I just wish someone would have warned me.