Sharing a Chair | Blog

5 things more irritating than poop and sick.

Β 

When you become a parent, there's all the classics 'Say goodbye to sleep!' (correct), 'Watch out for those explosive poops' (unfortunately very correct) and then tales of woefully feeding your baby at 3am, only for them to promptly be sick, and you have to start again. All true. All soul destroying. Of course, it's worth it, but there are some irksome elements to parenting that don't get so much airtime. There are so many things that I didn't even know about becoming a mum, specifically the toddler era. Noone is going to talk to you about the toddler/preschool stage when you're just about to have a cute tiny newborn, and thank goodness I say because they are enough to contend with. 

 
 Look how happy I am in my spotless living room with my empty washing basket and a sole cup to wash up. 

Look how happy I am in my spotless living room with my empty washing basket and a sole cup to wash up. 

 

1. The Washing

Before my son came along it was just my husband and I with our weekly load of dark washing (do we really wear that much black?) What does a baby wear? A lot of white. What do babies do? Poop. A lot. That poop is also bright yellow (soz, but it is, let's not be shy - nothing is sacred anymore, we're parents) so this makes for a lot of washing, and scrubbing and then hanging it out in the sun in the hope it will bleach out the mustard tinge because nothing you do gets that stuff out - seriously?! But readers, I'm going to be *that* person and tell you that if you are planning a second child - just you wait. My biggest tip is buy lots of baskets because they will be your new wardrobes. You will wash it, and possibly hang it out to dry before it smells like an old shed, but by this point, you will NOT want to put it away. Millions of baby and toddler socks? NO thanks. 

2. Hoovering

If you are able to convince your child to eat carefully from a plate, or eat at the table I say give that parent a medal. I try this and then give in for a quiet life. A quiet, crumb-filled life destined to a lifetime of hoovering three times a day. If anyone tries to tell you that you deserve anything less than a Dyson you tell them where to shove their dustpan and brush because you deserve the Rolls Royce of suction to maintain your sanity. 

 
 Start them young and pay them in raisins.

Start them young and pay them in raisins.

 

3. Leaving the House

This will become a nemesis for several reasons. In the early days, you won't want to leave because of the effort involved, make the most of this time. By the time you've managed to fit every belonging you own into a bag that screams 'I abandoned style to carry around squashed bananas', someone needs a poo, or has pooped and now needs a full outfit change. 

You will then go through the delightful stage of never wanting to be at home, because if you do you will fall into the deep rabbit hole of Peppa Pig (don't get me started on that brat) and Pom Bears. You realise when they look cute and peaceful in bed that you were probably a bit harsh to lose it at 9 am when they asked for their 10th snack. You then consider that perhaps tomorrow you'll do better because your step counter says you've only done 500 steps in 10 hours. 

 
 Definitely worth it....I spose.

Definitely worth it....I spose.

 

4. Washing Up

Now if you have a dishwasher then read on my friend, and perhaps keep it to yourself. We don't have room in our house, because trust me if we did it would be on my Birthday list - screw the Feminist issue. Children add to washing up at a rate akin to Keanu Reeves on a bus rigged with explosives. Even when they don't even eat they add to it. Bottles, Sterilising, Weaning, refusing a gourmet meal you've cooked from scratch and moulded to resemble a plate of fish fingers, it all adds to what feels like a never-ending Groundhog Day of fairy liquid and peeling nail varnish. 

5. Bowls (and Snackgate - all day errryday)

Now this one might just be me, so to be I'm putting it out there in a desperate attempt to find me a comrade or two. As soon as my son could ask for things (lay down the law) and show a preference (shout at me for being an idiot and not reading his mind) he decided he wanted all of his snacks presented in bowls or 'pots'. When I say all, you toddler parents will know that this means approximately 100,000 snacks per day (no *YOU'RE* exaggerating).

So let's just say for argument's sake that the snack in question is a popular chew bake bar...you remove it from the wrapper and put it in a pot as requested. Winning? No. The wrapper was meant to stay on so he can stare at it and fondle it for an hour until he decides when it's opened. So you present a new chew bar quietly cursing the price and thinking up tricks to make him eat said rejected bar tomorrow. STILL WRONG. The pot is wrong. You then ask (through gritted teeth) 'which pot would you like then darling?' he finds a perfect pot, carries it off and then you hear it. The tears. He's dropped it and the CURSED chew bar has broken in half. You try the 'you've got two now' trick, to no avail. He wants a new pot and a new bar and all you can think of is how the washing up is now mounting. AGAIN.

 
 Those bloody pots.

Those bloody pots.

 

Post originally written for Selfish Mother.