4 Things They Don’t Tell You About Becoming a Parent

Zis veek, I have been sailing the high seas of early-parenthood and thinking a lot about some glaring omissions made in the universal ‘Parenting For Dummies’ guide. Here, for you all to read, are some ponderings what I have pondered.

1. When your child is born, they shouldn’t say ‘congratulations’, they should say ‘welcome to the Big Brother house’.

Firstly, going to the toilet WILL become a spectator sport. “Overly clingy children who won’t let you poo in peace? Not in my house!” said my younger, eminently more ambitious self. Didn’t account for potty training, did I. Transpires it’s pretty much impossible without live demonstrations.

Secondly, folk always bang on about the 'sponge effect' with kids. It’s kind of hard to believe the same tiny human that regularly forgets their own name has any significant capacity for retention. But mate, when people say that kids absorb everything and anything, ain’t that the truth. When your belt loop gets caught on a door handle and you highspeed recoil into the door frame before ending up flat out on the bathroom floor (singing every shade of the rainbow on the way down), chances are your kid won’t get too judgey about your colourful vocal freestyling. The nursery leader who hears it repeated in your toddler’s adorable Elmo tones definitely will.

Anyway, plus side is they absorb all the awesome stuff too. Parental triumph of the week was overhearing Boy 1 absentmindedly crooning Eliott Smith lyrics to himself as he pottered around the house (“the cold and pain insiii my eyeeee shoo upppp”). ‘Miss Misery’ is one of my recurring internal monologue soundtracks, but I seriously don’t even remember singing this out loud. Let’s just hope he chooses to absorb my vocal output rather than my husband, who - if the singing from the bathroom is to be believed - is “bringing booty baaaack”. I’m pretty sure the binge-playing Meghan Trainor is reasonable grounds for divorce?

2. Your understanding of vomit will be PhD level.

Our home has pretty much been the national research centre for vomit this month, with several career-defining incidents forever imprinted on my mind’s eye/nose. Recently our toddler has discovered the mystical phenomenon of the gag reflex. His no.1 hobby is waiting for a parental head to be turned, giving his tonsils a cheeky tickle and then carefully examining his transmorgrified breakfast. That’s right folks, recreational bulimia is the latest craze hitting the under-twos.

I couldn’t bear to take photos, but the most recent pukenami left a scene not unlike this:

This, over 2 beds, 4 blankets, a sheet, a chair, a selection of unfortunate teddies and a 2m x 2m patch of carpet to mentioned just some of the casualties. FACT: Anyone who says standing on a piece of lego is the apex of painful parental experiences has never had their toddler vomit into a large box of duplo.

Moral of the story: Google is a fickle lover. ‘Sprinkle baking powder on it’ they said. ‘Wait 15 mins and then hoover it up’ they said. Yes, do all this - if your aim is to leave your vacuum cleaner looking like it’s been reconditioned as a foam spray for a sketchy student nightclub. Some 23 year olds spend their Saturdays shopping and preparing for an impending big night out. I spent my Saturday dismantling this badboy and cleaning jellified vomit out of its various components. U jealous yet?

Storm Trooper helmet hoover. Let the debris flow through you!

3. When it comes to exhaustion, “You don’t know maaan, you don’t know!”.

You know what I hate? People who dole out the “you won’t know until you’re a parent!” line like it’s a bloody flyer during freshers week. But seriously - the potential for exhaustion is almost beyond comprehension. Like ‘you will start hallucinating’ bad. Because the thing is this: if you fall asleep when you’re not supposed to, your baby could self implode (or so you’ll panickedly convince yourself).

Newborns are like really expensive cocaine.

In the First World War, soldiers were executed for falling asleep at their post. Can you imagine that? Crippling insomnia, the constant, maniacal scream of shells, irreparable explosive mess all around you, and having to muster the mental strength to charge right into the enemy's line of fire - topped off with the disastrous consequences of accidentally drifting off? Welcome to parenthood.

4. It probably won’t be love at first sight.

When people talk about becoming a parent, there seems to be this prevalent myth about how the day your child is born is the most amazing day of your life. And I’m sure for some people this is the case. But let’s be real. Not everyone sees fireworks. In fact for a hella’ lot of us, adoration at first sight is just not a thing at all.

I’m not saying you won’t feel wholly committed and completely devoted to your baby the second you/your lady pops that little sucker out. From the second your kid is born you’ll be loving them in the verb sense of the word - consecrating your time, resources and energy towards their every need. But acts of love do not necessarily equate to being ‘in love’.

As a new parent, I felt irreversibly committed and dutiful towards my newborn. But my heart did not swoon. I did not think my constantly shrieking, perpetually demanding, potato-faced tiny terrorist was the most glorious creation since Cooplands cheese straws. And for the next few months, that remained the case. There was no crippling depression, no clinical mental affliction to battle. I just didn’t think too much of the kid’s personality, y'know? Objective adoration for a being that shrieks whenever you glance at them, chews your boob into oblivion and allows you 3 hours of sleep in every 24 (scrounged in sporadic 20 min episodes) is not the go-to emotional reflex for your average human being. Your thought patterns are likely to be less “YOU’RE THE BESTEST WITTLE CWEATURE EVER”  and more “there is a fair possibility I may die from exhaustion induced insanity” or “that’s an intriguing hallucination I’m having”.

Whenever we visit my inlaws I seize the opportunity to burn through a couple of Madmen episodes (Sky Boxsets, how I long for you). In S6 E5 Jon Hamm - unrivalled king of the monologue - turns out this badboy (which really you need to watch in order to get the full effect).

“I don’t think I ever wanted to be the man who loves children. But from the moment they’re born, that baby comes out and you act proud and excited and hand out cigars. But you don’t feel anything. Especially if you’ve had a difficult childhood. You want to love them but you don’t. And the fact that you’re faking that feeling makes you wonder if your own father had that same problem. Then one day they get older and you see them do something and you feel that feeling that you were pretending to have. And it feels like your heart is going to explode.”

Moral of the story is this: Falling instantly in love with your child is a pleasant possibility, it is not a guarantee. And that’s ok. 

Because one day, maybe a in few weeks or months or even longer, your bouncing bundle-of-demands will become a little person. And you will see them do something that makes you feel, genuinely, like your heart is going to explode.