I Know You Didn’t Mean It, But ...

Cuter than feral goats.

Look, before I tell you some very honest and sticky feelings, let me start by saying it’s not your fault. If you’ve said these things to me, I’m not mad at you or offended or anything. I probably don’t remember it was you! 

But let me add that I’d love it if you wouldn’t say it in the future. I’ll still love you if you do, but just so you know, you’re going to send me home bawling my eyes out. 

Okay, so what is it that you may or may not have said? You said, “Sure, this stage of parenting, with littles and all, is hard. But when they’re older, it just gets different hard (or even harder!). The worries are different, but at least as bad (or worse).”

Now, I understand you meant to be comforting but also realistic. You wanted to remind me that I won’t always have to be watching my baby to make sure he doesn’t fall off of whatever precarious place he’s climbed onto and crack his head open. You’re reminding me that diapers will one day be a thing of the past. Someday soon I won’t feel like a Sherpa with baby on one hip, three bags on the other, holding a toddler’s hand, and climbing up and down the co-op’s stairs (so many stairs!). I get that’s what you’re trying to do. 

But this is what I hear: “You will never ever get a break. There will never be a moment when you get to relax and feel like you’ve accomplished something good. You will never feel good about parenting. Every time you start doing something well, things will just get worse. You think you’re struggling now? You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”

This is what it feels like: Imagine a person drowning in the ocean, seeing the shore from a distance too far to reach. She’s sputtering and splashing and terrified and hoping she can somehow make it to the sand so she can just breathe air for a minute or two.

And you tell her, “Sure, that’s nice. But when you get to shore, there are hordes of hungry man-eating goats all over the beach. They’ll take longer to kill you than drowning will, and it will probably hurt more (they have small mouths and teeth, you see). So you might as well enjoy drowning.”

Not super helpful.

Next time maybe try pointing out the breathtaking vistas on the beach. Note that there are a few patches of sand that aren’t feral-goat-infested. Even if you’re lying to me. Even if every square inch is full of teeth and hooves. Just lie, please. Thanks.