Having babies was hard. Not just the actually having them part, but the other parts. Like getting up 893 times a night, playing endless rounds of peek-a-boo. (I always wonder if babies are laughing at that game itself, or that fact that we look like complete morons. Nobody, not even an infant, can really believe that you’ve gone anywhere. You’re right there, behind your hands.) Or dealing with most children’s television programming, like Barney and Baby Einstein. I know they were supposedly developed by experts in child development, but I still think they’re really just remnants of someone’s acid trip.
I remember when my first child hit the half-year mark and started cutting teeth. Waking up every 20 minutes pushed the boundaries of my very fragile psyche. When he finally fell asleep at 9:45 p.m. on the New Year’s Eve of our first year as parents, my husband was horrified that I was going to bed.
“It’s New Year’s Eve.”
“He’s sleeping. I want to be sleeping. Would you rather I get some sleep, after a week of sleepless nights, or would you rather I stay up with you, to watch some gaudy, overly-bedazzled, giant-a$$, waste-of-money-that-could-feed-starving-children ball drop, and later kill you in your sleep?”
I had a really hard time in the early years of motherhood.
I got through these times with the constant, unending support of my amazing friends and family. I remember calling my La Leche League Leader (who is now my BFF) during the teething time and essentially telling her I might die, that lack of sleep, coupled with constant nursing, was actually sucking the life out of me.
“This, too, shall pass.”
Those words, along with a tremendous amount of caffeine, saved me. Like an addict who takes it one day at a time, I had to just get through tonight, just one sleepless night. One day, they will have all their teeth, sleep through the night (in their own bed – alleluia and praise God), dress themselves and put away their own crap. And, I was told, I would miss those nights of looking into my baby’s eyes, while he struggled to find comfort for his little gums, counting on me to save him.
OK, so let’s be real here. I will NEVER miss those nights. There is never going to be a time when I say, “Oh boy, I sure wish I could stay up all night with a cranky baby who can’t get comfortable and clearly blames me for everything. Those were the days.”
But, whatever, at the time, I was so sleep deprived I trusted that it would happen. I had to trust all the wise words from those who had come before me.
“It gets easier.”
“They grow up fast and won’t need you for long!”
“Once you get through (insert parenting misery here), it’s downhill from there.”
What these experiences have taught me, over my 15 years as a parent, is that it’s all a crock of shite.
It does not get easier. They will always need you (I am on my parents’ cell phone plan and I’m 42.) Whichever parenting milestone you get through, there’s another one waiting on the other side.
Once my kids started to age, and I was slightly less likely to be institutionalized, I used to joke with my friends who had older kids, as I tried to coerce a toddler to eat peas, “Hey, it’ll get easier, right (hahaha),” and that’s when the truth finally came out.
“No.”
“I’m sorry, what did you say?”
“Nope. It doesn’t ever get easier. It just gets different.”
“What?? Are you f’ing kidding me? I spent the first year of motherhood being promised that I’d “get the hang of it” and “it won’t always be like this.” It’s the only thing that got me through it, for God’s sake. And now you’re telling me it was just a ruse?
“The truth may have killed you.”
So here I am 15 years later, a lot more tired than I ever thought was possible. I’ve sprouted gray hair, earned a few wrinkles and started including “comfort” on my list when clothing and shoe shopping. And it hasn’t gotten easier.
The concern over teaching my pre-speaking children sign language has been replaced by the concern that I may have taught them a new combination of curse words during my last tirade. Hysteria over needing them to learn the alphabet by age five has been replaced with hysteria over passing the physics regents. Hiding household cleaners so little ones don’t poison themselves has been replaced with hiding prescription medications so no one OD’s – even though I’m sure they’re not using them, but refuse to say, “never my kid.” Worries over them running into the road and getting hit by a car are replaced by…well that’s the same fear.
Especially since Pokemon Go.
From what I understand, these fears will continue to transform/alter/adjust, but never diminish, until I die.
And yet, I have managed to become one of “those” moms, the ones I wanted to smack right in their righteous, well-rested, fresh-breathed faces, every single day of my early years of mothering. You know them…the ones who tell you they, “wouldn’t trade it for the world.” Don’t get me wrong, there were a few nights of projectile vomiting, a few full-blown tantrums over sock seams, and more than one head injury that I would be ok missing. But more often than not, I love this gig.
These kids of mine are turning into people that I actually like. We talk and laugh. Their jokes don’t (always) suck anymore. They are (mostly) reasonable, (generally) intelligent and (sometimes) helpful creatures. It’s kind of cool.
And it’s gotten to the point where I forgive all those people who lied to me about that “easier” crap, especially when I see a new mom on line at the store – screaming baby in one arm, breast milk leaking through her shirt, rifling through her bag for anything that might save her – and I find the deceptive words passing over my own lips, “Don’t worry girl, it’ll get easier. You’re doing great.”
Sometimes, we all need a little untruth to get us through the day. And some uppers. But since drug use amongst the mothering group is frowned upon, I suggest an all-natural pick-me-up instead.
(It’s much easier to explain to the grandparents, too.)
I love this recipe. It looks as good as it tastes. But let’s be honest, sometimes (read: nearly always) we just need the energy and don’t have time for the pretty. My suggestions for a quicker recipe are in parentheses.
The Effervescent Energy Drink “ A Natural Pick Me Up!
Preparation Time: 10 minutes Total Time: 40 minutes Servings: Serves 4
Ingredients:
1 cup strawberries
1 cup peaches
2 lemons, sliced
1/4 cup of honey
1/4 cup of apple cider vinegar
Fresh mint sprigs
750ml-1L of sparkling mineral water or cold water
Ice cubes
Mason jars (or any other jar, mug or bowl that looks like it’s been cleaned recently)
Directions:
Remove greens from strawberries and slice lengthways, reserving a few for garnish
Pit the peaches and roughly chop into cubes (remove greens and pits.)
Combine fruit, mint leaves, honey and apple cider vinegar in a jar and leave to stand for 30 mins at room temperature.
Put all ingredients in the blender (particularly when a child is screaming bloody murder, and mix on high for a minute or until the crying stops.)
Add to 1 L of natural effervescent mineral water or cold water and stir well to combine.
Serve in mason jars with ice, garnished with a sprig of mint, a strawberry and a slice of lemon (skip the berry and mint garnish if you like, but throw in the lemon for flavor, or so there is something to share your bitterness.)
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Laurie Nigro, is the mother of two biological children and one husband. She also takes care of a menagerie of animals that leave throw-up around for her to step in in the middle of the night. Laurie’s passionate about frugal, natural living, which is a nice way of saying she’s a kombucha-brewing, incense-burning, foodie freak who tries really hard not to spend money on crap made by child laborers. You can hear her rant about her muse (aka husband) and other things that have no bearing on your life, in this space each Sunday.
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