Tips for Those Who Have Procreated

I am a mother.  It happened on a humid evening in New Orleans after a few beignets.  Little did I know that 10 months later, I would be parenting a female offspring.  And, truth be told, on days when my memory is shot, I have two little people now saying, "Mama? Mama!  MAMA!," as every third word from their language repertoire to remind me that I am, in fact, responsible for these strange and loving little people.

Lately, I have been thinking about the language used to describe parents.  I read posts and social media ooblyjunk about the state of parenting.  It's all about how to be an involved parent, how to not be a helicopter parent and how to consciously ignore your children's needs in order to listen to Coldplay.  

I get it.  It is all well-intentioned; however, at times, I feel we give too much language to this whole procreation aftermath business.  I would bet my entire collection of Laura Ingells Wilder books that my mother never thought about whether her actions were in the "bad" or "stellar" parenting groups. So, unless you intentionally hurt your children or make them drink bitter melon shakes, I will not judge your choices. 

So, since I have told you to not listen to other people's parenting advice AND all parents are hypocrites, here's my three cents on this business of little humans.  Here's all I have to give as a multiple-time procreator:

1.  Park by the cart return.  It makes the end of a grocery jaunt more bearable.  You make it back to the car before calamity ensues.  And, buckle the kid in before leaving the vehicle.  Be smart, parents.  Unless harnessed into something, they will MOVE.

2.  When going on trips, put your stuff in your children's suitcases.  Then, teach them responsibility by carrying their own stuff.  This is a win-win for everyone.  Just happens that their win is much heavier.

3.  Play with your children.  Specifically, play hide-and-seek.  This game teaches life skills, folks.  

  

• Teaches counting skills.  Is there really a reason to count past 20 in real life?
• Teaches patience.  In a world of I-need-it-now!, it's important to give them delayed gratification.         To really give them an opportunity to delve into this skill, I typically hide in a really obscure place (with pillows and blankets).  It takes them a bit o' time to find me, and I get a power nap in.  Again, we all win, and, by win, I mean well-rested.

4.  Throw efficiency and planning out the window.  The best thing I learned about post-procreation is letting go of your own agenda.  Without expectations, we are all much happier.  Case in point -- I always thought I was the kind of mother that would listen to a doctor's directives concerning my children's health.  So, Ruby had a stomach virus.  Doc said it was likely a virus.  But, just in case, she wanted me to collect 9 stool samples to make sure it was not giardia.  I thought giardia was a sexually transmitted disease (I was confusing this with gonorrhea).  So, I begrudgingly collected 5 samples (more than 50%!) because I am a mother, and striving for mediocracy is okay. What does planning and efficiency have to do with this?  I did all the work, put the shit in the fridge and was so involved in parenting that I missed the deadline for the excrement to be considered good-excrement.  It was expired shit. So, now, I have a fridge of spoiled poo.  Nasty, ineffecient and poorly planned.  And, I am okay with (sh)it.

5.  Play music.  We listen to music constantly.  The girls can differentiate between all the male singer-songwriters:  Ed Sheeran, Chris Martin, Aloe Blaac.    When we play it, we play it loud and we sing along.  The other day, as I was driving the girls home, we were blasting an awesome song with a pump-your-fist-in-the-air beat.  "All the commotion!  The kiddie (this is so good!  this song even references children!!!)  likes play.  Has people talking.  Talking.  You.  Your sex is on fire!"  So, okay.  Parents should sort-of sensor music, eh?  Don't get me wrong.  I am all about talking to children about the birds and the bees.  I was just really hungry, and it was not the time for Mama to delve into a lesson about fiery sex.  Lesson learned, people.  

That's it.