Raising Kids: What the books leave out

Having children is the craziest, most mind-numbing ride of my life not an easy thing. It doesn't matter how many books you read, how many TV shows, how many seminars and how many Mommy groups you attend, you are never, and I mean NEVER prepared for what's coming.

It's funny how when we're pregnant we all have these incredibly delusional thoughts grand plans about what life with a child will be like. After birthing that baby, we plan to hold a perfectly shaped baby in our frilly nightgowns while our family and friends parade in and out admiring our quiet, completely relaxed baby. Every so often we'll feed and change the baby, and then we'll nap and rest to prepare for our trip home where we will start our glamorous life of Mommy and Me groups, playgroups, swimming lessons, preparing gourmet, organic meals, family trips - like camping and such. All the while, our perfect little baby will coo and smile, and will sleep all night long, and nap at regular intervals. Immediately after giving birth we will drop all the extra weight and get back into shape, and we will breastfeed like pros - because that's what good mothers do, right? We'll be completely put together - perfectly coiffed hair and make up done every day. Our houses will be meticulously clean and dinner will be on the table when Daddy arrives home from work, of which we got up and made him a huge breakfast and packed his lunch, and saw him off with a kiss and a promise of "adult time" after baby goes to bed. Yep - life is going to be perfect. Admittedly, there's a little stress and apprehension about the whole pregnancy, labour and delivery - after all, our body will never, EVER be the same is going through some miraculous changes. We read books and get all wrapped up in how painful the labour and delivery is going to be - but we diligently make birthing plans to make the experience as pain-free, fru-fru, zen and relaxing as we can. Then we read books about raising baby - about making informed decisions about circumcision, immunization shots, cloth or disposable diapers, organic foods. These books teach us everything, right? I mean, Dr. Sears and the What to Expect series of books - books that have sold MILLIONS of copies can't be wrong, right? We know that we are going to raise our children to be smart, well educated, well rounded, upstanding citizens. Yep! We know it all, right?

WRONG. Dead wrong. Those books are complete and utter horse shit. I'm not sure what kind of drugs the authors were taking, but man alive, having children is NOTHING like the books portray. I'm certain that these people haven't even had children of their own, because they are WAY off base. OR...they're men. Men who had nothing to do with their children save for the small sperm donation that drunken, sloppy night. Those books prepare you for NOTHING, except delusion and letdown. However, if they actually wrote books about what pregnancy and parenting was really like, well, nobody would have children. The human race would likely fade away. BUT...the shit they're feeding us is SO skewed, and so, so, so wrong, in so many ways.

The reality? We gain weight and our bodies grow in ways that shouldn't be allowed. It is NOT comfortable. We don't sleep, we hurt, we leak bodily fluids (this is just simply a precursor to the incontinence that will be experienced long after the childbearing years), we waddle like ducks. We barf for upwards of 9 months - violent barfing that lasts all day long; the kind of barfing where you turn your insides right out, but then you go and eat a combo #3 at Taco Bell immediately afterwards. We develop stretch marks, grow hair in bizarre places (which incidentally doesn't go away after squeezing out a few kids), and then go into labour - hours upon hours of excruciating pain which culminates with C-section, or a vaginal birth that rips you stem to stern. Episiotomy my ass - you just rip every which way (I had stitches in places people shouldn't have stitches - the last time - it took hours - yes HOURS to stitch it all up - including my ass-holio). They place the baby in your arms and it's a cone-headed, old man in a blanket. And it's screaming. A lot. Then you might need a blood transfusion because, you know, it's not enough that you just squeezed 9 lbs of human being out a teeny, tiny hole, that stretched out in ways that are completely not right - and leaves your other half completely traumatized and vowing for celibacy for the rest of his life. Then, once everyone gets the all-clear, they leave you alone with baby. And it doesn't sleep. You desperately need a rest because it feels as though you've been hit by a mack truck, but the baby wants to eat. ALL. OF. THE. TIME. Except contrary to what the bloody books say, breastfeeding is NOT a natural thing - and to add to the painful gut, which continues to contract long after baby arrives, and to the stitched up scooch (or tummy), you have sore, raw, chaffed nipples - which baby continues to suck with more force than a dyson vacuum fresh out of the box. But the milk doesn't come in right away, so baby is getting more and more angry and forceful with its sucking, and it cries more and more, and you get more and more exhausted. AND, for the record, formula has kept babies alive for years - there is NOTHING wrong choosing to formula feed a baby. It does NOT make a Mom any less credible if she opts for that. That part of the books drives me bat-shit crazy. Anyway...you take a bite of the horrendous hospital grade meal they brought you, but then baby explodes in its diaper and your first experience with a diaper leaves you covered in black, tarry baby poop - and not hungry anymore. After a couple days of 'parenting' your sore self is sent home with a peri bottle, some ginormous sanitary pads - seriously, they're big enough to fit an elephant with a period, and a screaming baby who has carved up her face with her ultra long nails, and is screaming to feed yet again, because you know, it's already been 5 minutes since he's had a boob in his mouth. Eventually the milk comes in and your ginormous, rock hard boobs finally see some relief - although you're sporting some raw nipples and have developed thrush and mastitis. Baby nurses himself into a milk-induced coma, and gives that first little smile - you know, that moment you have waited for during this entire journey - your baby is acknowledging and validating you with a smile, but your bliss and happiness is quickly replaced with horror and fear as you realize that it's just the preamble to a full fledged mustard-seed crap blowout that seeps down the legs and through everything, and way up into baby's hair. Suddenly, that sleeping baby is wide awake because she hates being changed, and the wipes are too cold. This was becomes your new norm - you wear a groove in the couch because you sit there so long feeding and holding baby - because when he finally does go to sleep you sure as heck don't want to move and risk waking him. Every now and again you get some sleep - but only for a few minutes at a time - mostly it's when you pass out from sheer exhaustion. Finally you run out of meals that your family and friends have given and need to actually make something - except baby screams again to eat. A handful of party mix counts as a meal, right? I mean, it's got corn (chips) and cheese (sticks) in it. Then you realize that the stench in your house that you called the town office about thinking that there was sewer gas backing up into your house is actually you. You need to shower, except baby is screaming again, and you need to wash some clothes and dishes because the cupboards and drawers are empty. Finally you start to find your footing and you are able to juggle a few things like laundry and nuking things for meals. Baby is becoming more effective at feeding and you actually think you're finally figuring this all out, but...then you have your first solo outing. You are running late on time, you need to feed baby one more time before you leave, but you also need a shower. Baby of course wins out, so we spray little perfume on hoping to dull the stench, and you slap on a ball cap to hide the slicked back, greasy hair, and head out. Baby has it's first shots, and you feel like the worlds worst Mom because you allowed the big, bad doctor to poke your baby.

As time goes on, things DO get better. Baby sleeps for a few hours at a time, you start to get some sleep; the post-baby checkup goes well, although they are on you to lose weight - like it's easy to make proper meals and to get out and exercise. You start going to Mommy and Me groups - and you are usually the one there who hasn't showered or changed your clothes in the past 2 days. The diaper bag is almost empty and may even contain the shitty diaper from the last time you were out. When baby shits again - which he will - it'll be a blow out that goes right up into his hair and you get all over yourself. Your social life will become completely non-existent. And all those plans for travel, a clean and organized house, and gourmet meals? Yeah, no chance in hell.

Baby starts to get older, and you DO actually learn to juggle things. You learn that sometimes it's just easier to have baby sleep with you because that's the only way ANYONE is going to get some rest. There are clean clothes, some form of warm-not-always-nuked-or-out-of-a-box meal. You smell less and less, although you always sport some form of stale-smelling bodily fluid on your clothes. Baby reaches new milestones and achievements. Eventually you start to feed baby real food - you know, home-made, organic baby food. Well, once anyway. That shit takes too much time and effort. It's SO much easier to buy those little jars. Then suddenly life falls into place. You able to get out more and more, baby gets older and life goes on. You even regain a little romance with hubby, and then.... you get pregnant again. Then hell breaks loose. You're barfing your guts out with all-day sickness for 9 months while a toddler follows you around and touches you the entire time. Then you get huge pregnant, and toddler has reached the terrible twos - you've mastered a million trips to the ER for various ridiculous, a bunch of home repairs, baby-proofed your house because junior won't leave anything alone. Suddenly your house is a complete mess again, laundry and dishes are not done, and you rely more and more on those toddler meals, and introduce junior to kraft dinner, spaghettios, animal crackers and fish crackers. They don't eat veggies or fruit anyway, so there's no point in making them, right? Then you have that next baby, and you go through everything again - except this time with a little hellion darling toddler along for the ride - you know, a sweet, innocent little critter that will scale baby gates and get into stuff as you sit trying to feed or make sure a baby stays asleep. The books forget the parts about how you will never go to the washroom alone, nor will you shower our bathe in peace...these are the moments when our little darlings are most lonely or have very important things to tell us. And when you're going to the washroom or showering, you need to sweep the toilet for potential clogging items - like little people or hot wheels, and in the shower, you will feel the need to turn the heads of the million barbies lined up along the ledge of the tub because it freaks you out to have bazillion eyes watching you shower.

And sometimes, you're faced with health issues with your child. That triggers a whole new gambit of emotions, and opens a whole other world of learning and experiences. It's SO hard to be faced with these struggles - and sometimes, although many people are there to support you, you still feel really alone. And vulnerable. And responsible and guilty for your child's health issues. You wonder where you went wrong, or what you did that lead to this point. It's hard not to blame ourselves. You also learn to become tough - and to advocate for your children and yourself. Then you deal with other people and their views and opinions of these issues, because you know, you have your head in the sand about it all and haven't done the research or listened to the doctors. And the expenses associated with it - like the fact there is NO chance in hell that you could hold any job because the trips to the hospital and specialists are far too frequent - and you know you'd be let go. BUT...the chance to stay home with your kids is worth it all - it really, really is.

Your babies start to grow up - and they basically just develop bigger problems. They get sick and barf and shit all over themselves. They pick their noses, wipe their dirty noses on you, and they have tantrums (of epic proportions) all of the time - over trivial little things such as us saying no to poking stuff into the electrical socket or to not throw their food around. AND...they develop personalities...crazy little personalities that we have no idea how to handle, but we need to figure it out quick. They fight absolutely every-fricken-thing - just for the sake of fighting seek out independence. They fight getting ready for bed, and fight even more about going to bed - like world war 3 fighting. When you finally win this battle of the wills get the message through about how important sleep is, get them tucked in, then clean up the mess your darling tornadoes have created, and get into bed; they're having night terrors. OR...they just wake up and decide their lonely - sneaking into your bed to cuddle - except you don't hear them because you're, uh, otherwise engaged, and suddenly, jr jumps on top of you and announces, "I want to wrestle too". You fog, often squeezing baby butt cream on your toothbrush, and tossing a can of baby puffs into your lunch bag. Your friends trip over toys, can't open the damn baby gate when you need to, and you can never find anything. You go through life in a have kids, and you get together more and more. And it becomes a fierce competition about whose baby achieves what first, and the groundwork is laid about who ultimately are better parents and who have the smartest, best kids. Nobody says it, but it's just known - EVERYONE is comparing, and when they go home, there are big discussions about how so and so needs to do focus more on this, and fist-pumping over what our kids do best, and much stress over all the things we need to work on. THEN...Baby#1 finally heads off to school. The books don't warn you about this at all. It is SO hard to leave our babies with strangers. BUT...they adjust, we adjust, and life goes on - although with much turmoil. We learn to deal with school yard squabbles, bullies, learning disabilities, differing opinions between teachers and us....the list goes on. Then we have the activities they are involved with - swimming lessons, dance, gymnastics, tball, baseball, basketball, soccer, cheerleading, skiing brownies, cubs...school teams...school trips, summer camps....and all the gear we have to buy to go along with it. And the travelling for competitions and tournaments. And the sleepovers (seriously - what is about sleeping at someone else's house that is so attractive?). You go through the whole background check on the family members before you all jr to go. And the birthday parties. Good god, the birthday parties. Each one-upping the last. Then they start in with the mean girls and bullies. It's REALLY hard to keep our own emotions in check when we see kids hurting our own. There is definitely that realization that our own kids are likely NOT innocent in it all - I mean, they definitely have their moments and we know what they're like, but we try to use this as a learning experience to teach them that their actions have consequences, and hope that they finally realize they can't be shit-heads to others. Then they start wanting to go places on their own, and don't want us to kiss them or hug them in public. Next thing you know, you're dropping them off at the movie theatre to meet up with friends (which you've done a full background check on), and you wait with bated breath as they come out - happy as all get out and thrilled with their new-found independence. They're out hanging out with their friends - and getting themselves into trouble by 'forgetting' to do chores, or slipping in school and we are faced with punishment (which is SO much harder on Mom and Dad then the kids themselves). They get their own cell phone and get a Facebook, twitter, instagram and snapchat account. And you're constantly having to monitor and remember their passwords. Then you find something a little unsavoury and need to have the discussion about sex and internet safety (but only after you've educated yourself - and lord knows, you'll develop gray hair while researching that topic). Then they reach puberty and 'things' happen - they grow hair in places they never had it before, and they have other physical changes, and then you get that hysterical phone call where they got their 'thing', and after you realize it's because your darling daughter has gotten her first period, you arm her with all the equipment she could possibly need and explain about what is happening and how to deal with it. And...they get mouthy, difficult and very trying. They push limits, they fight, they argue, they cry - all in the quest for greater independence. And you have to learn to not disown or take them out to cope with this, remaining level-headed and empathetic at the same time. *THIS*, quite honestly, is one of the hardest parts of parenting. While we love our kids with all our hearts, they are not always 'likeable' during their teen years. Then they're learning to drive, and eventually you reach that scary moment where they can drive on their own. GULP! That feeling when you know they're out on the roads with all those other drivers that maybe aren't so good, plus you add in their inexperience - yeah, not so soothing or reassuring. AND inevitably, you'll get that phone call at 2:00 am (why does everything bad happen at 2am? Barfing kids, bed peeing, the annoying battery low beep on the smoke detectors, trips to the ER, teen problems...) where you've got her dead in a mangled crash before you even reach the phone 2 seconds after it first rings. BUT...she's just stuck in a snow drift on a side-road - because you know, it's a perfectly good decision to drive the back ways in the middle of the night during the winter. BUT...they find a solution, and they arrive home safely. And they get their first boyfriend/girlfriend - that is a mind-numbing moment - and although the guy seems OK, you know he's going to be responsible for breaking your daughters heart down the road, and that, is VERY hard to get past. And then you're sitting at the table for dinner (that is ONE thing I insist upon as a parent - we all sit together as a family for dinner), and the boyfriend is there. I guess some people might say that we are pretty liberal in our table talks, and nothing is off-limits, however, when the discussion about tea-bagging is tabled, and the boyfriend is squirming VERY uncomfortably, it makes for an awkward (albeit hilarious) meal. And they miss curfew a time or two - and in that time frame they're late, you have gone through every single worse case scenario possibility, but they come in laughing and smiling without a care in the world, because yes, they're drunk. And that, my friends opens up a whole new kettle of fish. The reality is, we were young once, and chances are, we probably drank before we were 19, so, we need to tread lightly. This is the point where you pull out the paper your child wrote during the DARE/RACE thing stating that they would never do drugs or drink alcohol and remind them of this promise to themselves - but you also remind them that they can call you ANYTIME, and you will go and get them - because their safety is of utmost importance. Then you get "THAT" call; the one at 2:00am, the one from your kid's friend because your kid is "sick" and they're worried about them. First of all, you realize that your kids has some EXCELLENT friends...and second, you haul ass out to the car and go pick up your kid and her friends. You're disappointed - for sure, but...they did the right thing, so you can't be THAT mad. Besides, the next morning your kid is hung right over, so you make sure to haul her ass out of bed bright and early, and make her face the day head on - and that may give you a bit of satisfaction.

THEN...your first baby hits the final year of high school. There is milestone after milestone achieved. Remember that boyfriend? He's long gone, but has been replaced by someone else and her heart gets broken again. You visit colleges and universities, and then right around Christmas, you help them complete their applications and pay the fees to submit them. THEN...you sit and wait to hear back. Prom becomes the focus. Searching for the 'right' dress becomes an obsession (maybe a scary one at that. Maybe your kid sets a benchmark that is WAY too high and difficult to fulfill without hiring Prada or Versace to design and build one). She 'settles' for a dress, and then the big day arrives. All the primping and preparations are carried out, and guess what?! The Prom itself is a lame old experience - they're just there for the dinner and then bam - they all go to some huge party afterwards - a party where those dresses are shoved into bags and replaced by leggings, a PINK or Lulu hoodie, work socks and birks (a clothing trend that you've had to learn to accept). THEN... your firtborn baby graduates high school. It's been a tough road - school wasn't always their 'favourite' thing - in fact spare and home time were their favourite subjects, but they did it. Some clean up at awards, others just squeak by (mine achieved honours - yes, I'm proud). Regardless, we're happy to see them accomplish this part of their lives. They've received acceptances (and possibly some denials) from university or colleges, and they have to painfully weigh out where they're going to go. They make their decisions, accept the offers, and start preparing for this new venture; all the while, Mom and Dad forking out money to pay for it all.

THEN...we're left counting down the days until our baby rips a piece of our hearts out, and makes the huge step into post-secondary education. Nothing, and I mean NOTHING prepares you for that feeling. While we're proud and excited for them, it's hard as hell to know that they're stepping out into the world on their own. I mean, we really are just a phone call (and several hours) away, but we aren't there to offer a hug when they're down or hurt, or to prepare meals and ensure they're eating properly. The day arrives, and we painfully watch as our children all say their goodbyes to one another - and watch as your youngest has her heart ripped out and sobs as her idol and big sister leaves home. It's a difficult and sobering drive to the school, but we arrive (far too soon) and we deliver our baby to residence. You drop her and all her stuff (she has A LOT of stuff - belive me!!!) at the drop off point, and drive the car to the parking lot, so you can go back and help her unpack. AND that my friends, is where you all apart. You sob uncontrollably in the car, and when your head is throbbing from a ginormous crying headache, you cry some more. Then, you pull yourself together, and get out of the car and start the painful walk back to residence - passing other parents who are in the same boat. Their crying sets you off again, and you ugly cry the entire way to the residence. Finally, you're cried out, and you head up to her little hole in the wall and get her unpacked. THEN...you say "see you later", because it's NEVER "goodbye", and give a quick hug and a kiss and you haul ass out of there before you lose your composure again in front of them. The first hour of the drive home is completely silent. Mom or Dad don't say a word for fear of losing the emotional control they are barely holding onto. Eventually you can make small talk, and drive home where you face the adjustment of her absence. The first few days are super tough - especially when you talk to your child and they too are struggling with the change, but then it gets easier and easier. They call asking for cash almost every week, and you know they're having the time of their lives - and are doing remarkably well in school too. Thanksgiving arrives and she comes home for her first visit (and reading break). And then next thing you know, it's Christmas, and then she's in the second half of her year. She's got an apartment lined up with friends for next year (and yep - you've paid the deposit on that), and she's excitedly making plans for that. She'll be home for summer...but this will probably be the last one. She'll likely have placements and find work related to her studies - which likely won't be around here. She'll be home less and less, as she goes to visit with friends during breaks and eventually she'll probably meet someone and will spend much time with them... and then...she'll graduated and start her own life altogether - one where she gets married and hopefully lives her happily ever after...including having children...

And her going through all the same motions the rest of us have - realizing just how unprepared we were for parenthood - and realizing that it's so much more than just the basics the books tell us. Leaving us in the dust, wondering where the time has gone and how we managed to get through. And maybe sitting back chuckling at some of the trials and tribulations they face because it's exactly the same things they dished out to us...

And then my friends, you get to do this over and over with each child we have. Yeah, having kids is NOT an easy thing. There is so much investment - monetary, emotional, and physical; and there are so many trials and tribulations, but there are more wins, pride and satisfaction - and that's what it's all about. EVERYTHING is so worth it. I'd do it all over again if I had to...but this time, I'd skip the books. Experience has taught me EVERYTHING I need to know about parenting. To do it again, I'd sit back and relax and enjoy the ride...because it goes SO fast. My first born baby is an adult - and the 2 are following not so far behind. AND?! I'm not institutionalized. YET. Ask me again when I reach the point of sending my youngest baby out into the big, bad world...I may be whistling a different tune at that point.