Happy Fucking Mother's Day or, sometimes having a kid is like having an abusive husband.

Do you remember, way back last August, when Caro was barely a month old, and I wrote about how obsessed I was with her? Well, I think it's safe to say that the honeymoon is over. I'm realizing now that having a child is less like being secretly in love with your best friend and more like having an abusive husband. They have a ridiculous amount of needs that you need to meet for them and you can rest assured that you'll never be good enough for them and they will let you know when you disappoint.

As frustrating as it sometimes is, and as exasperated as I undoubtedly become, she is still totally worth it. You know what's not worth it, though? Getting all worked up for Mother's Day. Here's a realization: Mother's Day is just like a birthday or any other greeting card holiday - pretty much just another day. I still have to do laundry and be the sole care provider for aforementioned abusive husband-esque infant. So, please, do everyone a favor and stop asking moms what fabulous plans they have for today. Chances are they're just getting on with the business of being moms and keeping shit together for everyone else. Maybe they'll get a card, though.

The things they don't tell you about parenting

I could write a freaking book, y'all. It would have chapter headings like:

Moving When You Have a Baby, or: How Paying a Babysitter Will Save Your Sanity
Human Gestation takes 10 months, Not 9 (Joke's On You, Preggo)
Teething: A Primer in Losing Your Sanity and Sleep Simultaneously
Who Needs a Lover When You Can Have Coffee

I just wish there had been some book or something that could have prepared me for this. Why do we have so many parenting taboos? Where was my parenting sensei? I wanted to be a grasshopper, dammit. I wanted to know what it was really going to be like! Lots of moms say "but you can never really be prepared for what it's going to be like the first time, you just have to do it." Maybe I wouldn't have been able to fully understand the implications of any information thrown my way, but it sure as shit would have been helpful to have it. Like after I got pregnant my mom decided to say "Oh, yeah, all the women in our family are extremely fertile." THIS IS INFORMATION THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN HELPFUL TO ME YEARS AGO.

This begs greater questions: why is there a culture of silence surrounding parenthood and especially motherhood? Why do we feel the need to show an outward face of perfection to even those closest to us? We have these conventions, and then we get online or with a group of other parents and we vent about all the awful parts of parenthood because we have no other outlet. We talk to childless people like our lives are perfect, and talk to other parents like we're on the verge of alcoholism or baby shaking.

These issues are connected to other problems: our parenting culture has started presenting a face of fear mongering and unfair judgment. We scare the shit out of each other, and appraise others' value as parents based on how seriously they take these imaginary or bizarrely perceived threats. Amongst the more offbeat parenting community, there is sometimes an "eco-machismo" attitude. "Your parenting choices are killing the earth, and mine aren't;" "how can you let your kid play with plastic branded crap?"

We are so afraid to honestly and openly talk with each other about our experiences, we're afraid we're doing it all wrong. And that fear won't allow us to seek knowledge to help us on this path; instead, we lash out at others' in judgment to hide our own insecurities. We join parenting sites and forums to dish out our advice to others and quietly compare ourselves to them to feel better about our choices. We have a great lip service: "you make the choices that are best for your family," "if it works for you, that's great." But, secretly, we're thinking how lucky our children are to have us are parents and some of these other yahoos that are procreating without a clue about what to do. Here's the best kept parenting secret: none of us know what we're doing. We just wake up everyday and love our kids and try to make it through. We're doing our best. Our choices are informed by our parenting philosophy, previous experience, and our own needs. I, for one, don't think those choices should be informed by fear of mortification or appraisal by other people - parents or not.

Parenting is a mixed bag, and that's ok - so is life. Some days are great, and you never want them to end. Some moments make up for the bad days. And sometimes it's all you can do to get the baby in bed and have a glass of wine and force yourself to let it all go. The challenges of parenting are nothing compared to the challenge of making hard choices and standing confident in those decisions in our current parenting culture. Go ahead, y'all. Open up. Tell me the bad and the good and let's brainstorm creative solutions to your parenting problems. Let's help each other through this. We're all lost in the woods here - there's no sense in us wandering alone.

I was a great parent (before I had kids...)

Before I had Carrie, I knew I was going to be a great parent. I didn't understand how some people let their kids get so dirty. Bananas in their hair? How could they let their kids do that?

How could some people give their children painkillers around the clock? Sure, the kid is teething, but that level of medication surely isn't necessary.

How could some people ignore their children when they cry? Can't you see that love and affection is a basic human need just like food? Clearly, that child was crying out for a little bit of attachment parenting.

And then I had a baby and went back to work and guess what? It turns out I'm some people, too. Do I wash Carrie? Yes. Every day? HAH! I wish I had time for that craziness. Do I let her get bananas in her hair? Um, she self-feeds now, so she gets all manner of crap in her hair and I'm just happy that some of it makes it into her mouth. Do I dose her with motrin when she's teething? You're damn right I do, or we wouldn't get any sleep. Do I snuggle her every time she cries? Nope. Cause Mama's gotta pee sometime.

I find myself watching Carrie smear snot and apple juice all over herself and everything within reach while I blithely sip coffee and text my best friend about the details of my life. I somehow register the dropping of a sippy cup from a high chair, but I don't stop typing or break my train of thought to pick it up until a meltdown is imminent. On the other hand, I take Carrie to the museum to meet a guinea pig and tell her about the relationship between the animal she's babbling to and a capybara. Also what "ovoviviparous" means. So maybe I'm doing alright, even if I am some people.

Lifetime Cribs - Love 'Em or Leave 'Em

So Carrie and I are (finally) moving out of my parents' house and my mother is graciously buying a crib as a housewarming present - score! I went to Babies R Us and picked exactly the one I wanted. When my choices are finite like that, and I need a specific and hard-to-find feature (low sides), choosing is easy. And then my mom asked me to look on Diapers.com and pick something from there (hello, free shipping on this insanely large and heave purchase!) And that's when the (proverbial) shit hit the fan.

See, this is a big purchase. I'm looking at lifetime cribs, they convert into toddler beds and full-size beds; which means I'm looking at a piece of furniture that Carrie will be using until she's my age (Goddess willing and the creek don't rise). That's a lot of pressure to put on me. What if she hates it later on? What if the finish is all wrong for her personality or the headboard just isn't compatible with her favorite pair of handcuffs? How do you choose something for a baby to last them their whole life? This is getting nuts.

Add to that the fact that I'm just over five feet tall and need a crib I can lower her into on the lowest setting - sans stepstool because I'm not a fucking toddler - and what do you get? I'm staring at a selection of 441 different cribs with absolutely no idea which one to pick. Dammit.

In the end, I'll probably pick something I like the look of and she'll just have to like it. And feel terrible about it forever. Ah, the joys of motherhood.

THWUMP THWUMP THWUMP

The air is filled with that sound. The sound of helicopter parents.

THWUMP THWUMP THWUMP as they carry their kids' backpacks and lunchboxes after school

THWUMP THWUMP THWUMP as they put away their kids' laundry

THWUMP THWUMP THWUMP as they zip up every jacket, button every pair of jeans and tie every shoe

THWUMP THWUMP THWUMP as they micromanage how their children can sit, stand, talk, sing and play

Here's a little friendly advice from your friend Kim: back away from your children. You're not preparing your kids for the real world of immediate, logical consequences and creative problem solving by hovering over them every minute of the day. If you spend 90% of your interaction with your kids telling them what to do and how to do it, why are you surprised when they stop listening? If your significant other or best friend spent all your time together nagging you about the way you exist, when you were just doing your best, you would stop listening, too.

Let's talk about logical consequences a little bit. When your kid is 28, and working, and the boss asks him or her to complete a task, what do you think will happen? Either your kid does it, or not. Boss isn't going to give reminders. Boss isn't going to walk Kid through it. If it's not done on time, Kid will be reprimanded or fired. You can't step in to save Kid at that point. All you can do is raise your kid to understand consequences and the power of his or her choices.

I've been really getting into Love & Logic lately specifically for this reason. Love and Logic is about making your word "gold" instead of "garbage." Request something one time, and pray you don't screw it up by endlessly reminding your progeny (or the kids you nanny, in my case) and see what happens. I'm not nagging anymore, we're all having fun and the best part? It works.

I'm not saying that I don't worry about my kid, or that the littles I watch sometimes don't really get on my nerves. ("Miss Kim, is it snack time? Miss Kim? MISS KIM?"--"What time do you think it is?") But what I am saying is that when I let go of the fear of everything not being perfect, I enjoy spending time with kids more. I fully intend to raise Caroline as a Free-Range Kid. I'd rather teach her that she is able to solve her problems and take care of herself than teacher her that I'm in control.

Epidurals Anonymous

Lately, I've been running across a lot of media that makes me feel like less of a mother. Seriously, stop judging my choices, society. I'm tired of hearing that my child will be stunted because my milk supply disappeared. I'm tired of "natural childbirth this" and "prenatal yoga" that. I'm sick of people acting like your labor experience is only valid if it's "long, arduous and difficult." And I'm especially sick of people acting like they are better mothers because they felt every contraction. It's not right to make your birth or parenting choices because of others' expectation for you. As one commenter on that blog pointed out, "I often feel like there is an implication that any child who isn't born "naturally" is to be pitied, or will suffer irreperable harm." I mean, come on, people! If the baby is happy and healthy, who gives a flying fuck how it got here??

I had an epidural. I was young and scared. Oh, my God, I was so scared. How can I possibly explain what it feels like to go into labor with no coach, no particular doctor, no proud papa and no place to call a home of your own? How can I describe what it was like to get up at 4 a.m., after enduring twelve hours of contractions alone and in the dark, and smell the blood before I even saw it? I. Was. Terrified.

So, yeah. I had an epidural. And it was a great decision for me. I vaguely remember telling my anesthesiologist that I loved him. And when breastfeeding was more painful than labor and I started seeing pieces of my nipple sticking to my nursing bra when I took it off, I let it go. And you know what? I'm a better mom because of it. I was able to bond with my daughter instead of crying every time she needed to eat. I was able to sleep during my labor so I had the energy to push when the time came.

I'm just don't want to be anonymous anymore, so I'm coming out: I had an epidural. And I love my child. Those two aren't mutually exclusive.

Sometimes, You Just Can't Save the Dog

This is a thing that I say when you just have to cut your losses: you can't always save the dog. Like right now: I wanted to write a post about the whole you-can't-save-the-dog story, and now Caro is grumpy and so we're going for a walk instead. Scratch that, we're going to find her diaper and put it back on, then we're going for a walk.