Why do other parents say so much discouraging crap to new moms and dads? I thought the misery-disguised-as-advice was rampant when I was still pregnant, but I had no idea what was to come once I popped those suckers out. These Debbie Downers were oh-so-uplifting when I was busy attempting to gestate while puking so much I thought I would upchuck major organs at any moment.
“Give up on the idea of ever leaving the house,” they tell me. “Sleep now, because you’ll never sleep again,” they warn. “Forget time alone with [Daddy in Training] for the next 18 years,” they say. I’ve learned to smile and keep my mouth shut, but what I really want to say is, “Just because you’ve chosen not to make any of those things a priority in your life and therefore resent your children doesn’t mean I have to do it that way.” I know plenty of well-rested, socially (and sexually!) active parents who have successfully incorporated children into their lives, and I fully intend to become one of them.
I'm happy to report that, with the exception of a few rough days here and there, my life with twinfants is pretty darned awesome. I sleep. I eat real food. I leave the house. I bathe. I get my eyebrows waxed. I meet friends for coffee. I go to the gym. I have dates with my husband. I have a sex life. I do normal human things. And yet, I have twins. Two children under the age of one. Both of whom happen to be teething right now (more on that in another post). It's a freaking miracle, according to these depressed, miserable parents who apparently hate having children and are protesting normal adult existence as a result.
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