When I got pregnant, I had this glorious idea. I told myself that I would have 12 months off, which would mean, of course, I would have all this free time. What better way to spend my free time, than to use it to catch up on creative writing projects, and to start a parenting blog for parents just like me; blissfully unaware of the challenges coming up, but adult enough to know we would have to go fake our way through it all.
What a silly dreamer I was. How foolish to believe that being a stay at home mom would mean I would have free time.
What were meant to be weekly entries, occasionally multiple entries a week have turned into bi-weekly, or sporadic monthly entries at best. Sometimes a few weeks will pass before I pull myself out if the chaos enough to vaguely remember I am supposed to be blogging. Somewhere between the spit-up, constant feedings and changing, and what I’ve started to call flash naps (mine, not hers), there is probably a moment or two where I could string enough sentences together to come up with a blog post.
Unfortunately, what tends to happen is I use that moment to blink and suddenly, hours have passed, my shirt is wet, and I have the subtle taste of cookies in my mouth but no recollection of eating any.
Parenting is very similar to being in a car wreck some days. You start your trip with a plan, good intentions, and the best mood. You’re singing along to a song on the radio you don’t love, but it’s catchy so you don’t change it. Then suddenly you hit a bad patch in the road, the car is doing donuts, and you are spiralling towards a ditch.
You wake up maybe moments, hours, or days later. Your hair is a mess, your clothes are stained and torn, the song you were okay with is still playing on loop and is now completely intolerable, and you crawl out of the wreckage wondering what the hell happened and how you got here.
That, in a nutshell, is parenting.
Sure, there are days when the journey goes almost as planned. There are a few roadblocks and re-routing but you still get there mostly in one piece but don’t count on having too many of those days in the beginning.
There are a lot more blowouts than you plan for, a lot of those cute little onesies when covered completely in slimy baby poop, go right from your baby to the trashcan, never to see the washer or dryer. Bath time becomes less of a fun, playful bonding time the third time around in a single day, and turns into a quick dunk and scrub in the sink.
It’s messy, it’s wonderful, it’s overwhelming…
And it’s also why I haven’t posted as much as I would have liked.
Thanks to any of my followers who keep following me despite my lack of consistency. Thank you for your support. I do see you and appreciate every like, comment, and follow.
As a new parent, I am trying my best and hopefully, I will somehow find my stride. Until then, I’m still pretending I know what I am doing as I walk away from the wreckage.