The Pendulum of Parenthood

I was talking to a friend for the first time since Emil was born. First we went through all of the formal greetings. You know, the things you have to say. “He’s perfect. Esme is a model big sister. We’re having a great time.”

She has a two-year-old also, so we chat about how fun this stage is, how their personalities are really coming out now that they can communicate, and so on. And then we get down to the truth. Well, the initial stuff was truth, too, but no truer than the dirty stuff.

I confess we’re barely sleeping at all, and there have been times when Emil and Esme have both been crying, and the dog barking, and all I can think is why have we chosen this life and how can I abdicate? Then she tells me about being in the grocery store with her son who manages to pour a Jamba Juice on his head while she’s wheeling him through the aisles. As she stands at the salad bar, using napkins to clean up the mess, the thought crosses her mind for two seconds to just walk away and leave him there.

Neither of us recall being warned about how difficult parenthood is. There must be some conspiracy out there, because if people told the truth, then procreation would come to an end. Of course, you can’t really convey how wonderful parenthood is, either. So I guess in the end it’s fair to not scare people off with the terrible stuff. Yeah, there are times that my daughter throws tantrums in a restaurant, or my son starts crying uncontrollably in the middle of the night, but then my daughter tells me a hundred times a day, “I love you, Mommy” and the look on Emil’s face as he nurses says pretty much the same thing. That makes it worth it.

Let’s face it. Parenthood is the absolute hardest, most wonderful, most frustrating, most rewarding thing that a person can do.