Like many people, as soon as I got pregnant I became a better person: More concerned (about me), more in tune (with myself), more cognizant (of every physical sensation), more determined than ever to do one thing right from start to finish. That dream died immediately. Over and over again.
It started when I realized I was double-hungry from quitting smoking cold turkey and would soon eat everything in sight, thus gaining “too much weight.” It ended when I realized I would not have a “natural” birth as I had hoped. It resumed when I realized I would go for co-sleeping over “sleep training,” and hit an all-time high when I learned my child would eat things like REFINED CARBS such as crackers and, what’s more, I would be OK with it. There were a million little failures along the way, from never being able to carry my child around in a Baby Bjorn (too fussy), to never being able to take her to brunch with friends while she napped on account of her being a high-needs baby.
Finally, I sank to an all-time low when I accepted that this would not be a princess-free household as I’d envisioned, you know, back when my concept of perfect parenting was still stored behind unbreakable glass in a museum.
Now of course I see clearly that the best-laid parenting plans are hilarious, poorly drawn blueprints, because pregnancy and parenting is nothing if not a comically absurd proof of your vulnerability, fallibility, and sheer mediocre, blustering humanness. That is what it should be, and in seriousness I feel no shame, and yet, through a mixture of bombarding messages of how to correctly gestate and mother, our own powerful self-shame mechanism, plus for many people that website Shminterest, women feel they must not only set a high bar for parenting (not a bad idea) but publicly show grief and remorse when it is not reached (inevitable), even if in lighthearted ways.
But it’s more than that. I have friends with kids the same age as mine and younger, and I’ve noticed we all use this reflexively jokey, self-deprecating way of speaking about our parenting. It’s offhand and casual, whether it’s admitting a child doesn’t get to bed until 10:30 some nights, or that another one refuses to let her hair be brushed, or that for now, our child is only eating plates of beige foods and what can you do because SERIOUSLY WHAT CAN YOU DO SUGGESTIONS IN THE COMMENTS PLZ.
The truth is, I know I am doing a great job because a great job IS doing a good job that is not perfect that includes messing up. We just don’t really think of it that way. Regardless, I bristle every time I read anyone’s idea of how parenting is a breeze if you just ________. I won’t take it from a nanny, from another mother, from Florence Henderson, from anyone, because if it were that simple, well, either literally every person I’ve ever known is a terrible parent who can’t get it right in spite of how easy it is, or someone is lying. (Hint: They are lying).
Why does it take us so long to realize it’s not failing to have periods of messiness as you sort out life, existence, sleep, eating, behavior, learning yadda yadda, with your kid? Also: Some of us never realize, and so as parents, we keep offering up little comedy bits of our failures, as if to continually purge ourselves.
So if anyone is still unclear on how to do it wrong, here is a quick list of the easiest ways to fuck it up according to the existing literature, and how to get the most public shaming out of it. Bonus points if you can cut out the chatter and don’t even have to explain it to anyone because you’ve made it so obvious.
WEIGHT GAIN
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