Five Things Nobody Tells You about Having Kids
I think before you have children there are certain things you just know: childbirth will HURT, babies cry a lot, changing diapers isn’t for those with a strong gag reflex and you can wave bye-bye to sleeping in ever again. Oh, and your social life goes from nights out clubbing to afternoons spent clutching overly-sweet fruit punch at your friends’ children’s Princess-themed birthday parties. We all know those things, but there are also aspects of parenting that nobody seems to discuss and after 14 years on the front lines, I think I know why they’re so taboo. Because if you knew, you’d never, ever venture into this crazy world of parenthood.
Dear god, the vomit. I’m not talking about a little milky trickle out of baby’s mouth after too much breastmilk or formula. I’m talking about all three of my children suffering from extreme motion sickness on every single plane, car, train, boat and moving vehicle we’ve ever been in. I have so many bad memories involving vomit but a couple stand out – like the time we flew back from Chicago when my twin boys were 7 and my daughter was 4. All three of them had been sick on the plane. We had barf bags being thrown at us by air stewards, other passengers, the pilots. One of my sons barfed so much he had nothing clean left to wear. After the hellish flight we walked through Vancouver airport to claim our bags, heads held high, him dressed only in his underpants and sneakers and my husband’s undershirt.
That wasn’t even my lowest vomit-related moment as a mom. That came two years later when all three children picked up the stomach flu on the same night. At around 10 p.m. I heard the first cry come from my daughter’s room. She had puked all over her bed. As I was cleaning her up I heard crying from my twin boys’ room. They were both feeling sick too. I ran to get my husband and some buckets and then for four excruciating hours we took turns going room to room consoling and cleaning and changing pajamas and sheets. At 2 a.m. my husband gave up and went to bed and I continued my lonely vigil until 6 a.m. The next day as I blearily surveyed the chaos, I realized one of my sons had thrown up all over the top bunk. Have you ever tried to clean vomit from a top bunk? It should be added to an interrogator’s torture arsenal. I considered packing my bags and leaving the country that day.
Oh those evil little creatures that make themselves at home in our hair, their legs seemingly coated in superglue. Three years ago my children’s elementary school had a lice infestation. It spread like wildfire among the students. Letters were sent home and panic was discernible among parents huddled in groups at pick-up. Of course all three of my children got it. I can’t even count how many hours I spent washing sheets, pillow cases and blankets and treating and combing out their hair. It became a full-time job but my daughter just couldn’t seem to shake it. We tried every over-the-counter shampoo treatment, different combs and removal techniques.
After a year of my daughter picking up lice every couple months we had no choice but to call in some experts. I found a local company who came over and sold me their lice shampoo and extra-special lice comb. Then one of their employees spent hours meticulously picking out every last mite and egg on her head and she was finally lice-free. It hasn’t come back again, but if I so much as see any of them scratch their heads now I jump into action, picking through their hair like an over-eager monkey. Not on my watch you evil brown insects!
I lump these three together in a category because I feel like each one alone is maybe tolerable but all three together are a trifecta of grossness. We know dealing with poop is not the most fun thing to do and I won’t make things worse by discussing my poop stories because every single parent has poop stories. Are you even a parent if your toddler hasn’t at least once take their poopy diaper off and smeared the contents all over a crib or a wall?
When our babies are born we’re obsessed with their poop because they can’t communicate so their bowel movements give us information on how their little tummies are doing. We discuss the colour and consistency of their poop with other moms, ad nauseum. Now, many years later I have two 14-year-old boys who think anything poop or fart related is absolutely hilarious and I want nothing to do with it. They’re constantly trying to gross me out by farting and belching and regaling me with toilet humour. I no longer have any desire to know anything about anyone’s poop, and finding an un-flushed toilet is not what I consider a fun time.
It’s amazing how much little humans smell. I mean, we all smell, but most of us, by adulthood, have figured out how to control or disguise our natural body odours. I have a very sensitive sense of smell, so unwashed hands, sweaty armpits, smelly feet, morning breath – they’re all an assault on my nose and senses. I spend so much time asking my children these questions:
“Have you washed your hands?”
‘Did you put on deodorant?’
“When last did you wash your hair?”
“There’s no way you brushed your teeth!”
It’s another skill to add to my ever-growing list of job descriptions I’ve taken on as a mother: hygiene monitor and expert!
From the second your baby takes their first breath until the day you take your last breath, you will be worrying about them. You will worry about anything and everything they do at every single stage of their lives.
Babies: Are they sleeping, eating, breathing and pooping ok?
Toddlers: Are they growing at the correct rate, putting on weight as they should be?
Pre-schoolers: Are they social enough? Do people like them?
Kindergarten: Are they learning to read and write at the same rate as their peers?
Middle school: Are they studying enough, doing their homework and handing in assignments on time?
High-school: Are they drinking, taking drugs, hanging around with the wrong crowd?
I wish I could tell you it ends when they leave home but I haven’t experienced that yet and I know from other more experienced mothers in my life that it doesn’t switch off, ever. Even as my teenage boys and pre-teen daughter grow, I still sometimes wake up in the middle of the night and feel compelled to go check on them. I watch them as they sleep and a feeling of immense love and contentment washes over me. Despite all the vomit, lice, poop, belching, smells and grey hairs they’ve caused me, I wouldn’t, for a second, change who they are or what they’ve brought to my life.
