Ever since I woke up this morning I’ve had a burning desire to blog. But what to blog about? I decided to think about it today and write this evening before I start a comic (somehow I also need to figure out how to draw a little girl bouncing up and down on the abdomen of an adult). Alas, although I have been up since 6:30 am and it is now 8:15 pm I have no idea what I want to write about. No burning issues I want to give an opinion on. No deep philosophical thoughts that have come to me in the last several days. Indeed, the only exciting thing to happen to me is that my good friend is coming to visit over the weekend and we’re going out clubbing! The planning has been super exciting :D.
With that, I have decided to write briefly about judging. Often I find that if I have a topic in mind I can just write and my thoughts are formulated in that way.
Throughout my life I thought I understood how challenging it is to be the sole caretaker of small children throughout the day. Indeed, as the oldest of six children I thought I had a very good grasp on this concept. And yet, it has always been slightly baffling to me how often stay-at-home parents never manage to get out of their PJ’s, have a shower, and maybe get into some “regular” clothes. I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, I just also know that I feel MILES better if I can do those things, even if I’m going to be home all day.
In my unconscious mind (where, this is all really taking place, I’m just pulling it to the forefront) I gave some slack to parents whose children did not sleep through the night. Seriously, it’s almost impossible for the non-parents among us to actually clean ourselves up when we’re sleep deprived. It’s just too much work.
However, as I drove home today from watching A & E I thought to myself, “Man, I am so tired!” And yet, I slept through the night, had excellent meals, and was adequately caffeinated. What’s worse, when I walked into my apartment I caught a whiff of myself. The faint scent of baby formula (E still drinks it sometimes), new diapers, old diapers, wipes, Desatin, peanut butter, and exhaustion (yes, it has a smell) reached my nostrils. It was then that it hit me. If I was at home with my two young children and I was covered in drool (really, it’s inevitable) with Spaghetti-o sauce, butt cream, and play dough on my pants why would I go to the effort? Even in the 1950’s when June Cleaver with her beautiful pearls was the cultural ideal there were women few and far between that looked like that.
And so, while this is nothing new to most of you (and really, nothing new to me, just articulated in a slightly different way) I’m glad to have said it. I hope you can remember this the next time you see an exhausted parent pushing their way through the local Target with a screaming child. As with adults, children have minds of their own and it takes a lot of energy to teach them right and wrong. There just isn’t a lot left over for wearing something other than yoga pants.
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