I don't discuss work much here because this is really Ian's space. But this is just bugging me TOO much!! There was a "gentleman" in my class today who uttered the words, "you aren't a parent if you've only had one kid." He said it just loud enough so only a few people heard it. A comment in line with the rest of his behavior...
It has made me fume...increasingly so as the day has drug on...
I carried him for 9 months
I altered my diet so he would be healthy
I endured natural child birth for his safety
I worked at nursing him for a month before he could do it on his own
I was sleep deprived for months
I spent countless hours in the living room late at night so Shea could get some sleep
I took him to the doctor every week for three months for a new caste.
I handed him to a doctor and left in tears so they could operate on his foot.
I waited a lifetime to get the cystic fybrosis test results back.
I was spit on.
I was peed on.
I cleaned poop from nooks and crannies.
I rocked him.
I held him.
I fed him.
I sang to him.
I worried about the choices I was making.
I called my mom a million times for help.
I called the doctor to confirm what my mom said.
I watched his milestones hoping he'd hit them.
I breathed a sigh of relief when he took his first steps.
I cried when he said momma for the first time.
I tried everything I could to soothe him so many evenings.
I documented every detail worried that I would miss something.
I slept beside him at night just to hear him breathe.
I held my hand on your chest to check you breathe.
I cried the first time I left you at home so I could go to work.
I cried when I arrived home to your smiling face.
I walked miles pushing you in the stroller just so you could be outside.
I went to work with little sleep.
I wiped your little nose and held your little hand.
I felt a knot at the pit of my stomach as I left you with someone else.
I worried all day about you.
I rushed to pick you up.
I thought I heard you when you weren't even with me.
I felt a surge of panic when I couldn't find you in the house.
I cried in relief when I found you playing quietly in your room.
I needed to laugh and scream the first time you unrolled the toilet paper.
I worried every time you wouldn't eat.
I was so proud the first time you said a word.
I watched as you "read" books.
I took you to the park.
I took you to the zoo.
I took you to the train museum.
I pried you from the swings.
I pried you from the dump truck.
I manuevered you and all of your stuff into the car.
I drove 200 miles with you in the backseat, just you and I.
I dressed you.
I bathed you.
I burped you.
I held you when you cried.
I enrolled you in preschool.
I reassured you the day I dropped you off.
I cried as a left you there.
I put you to bed.
I held you when you were sick.
I comforted you when you were afraid.
I explained why you can't cross the street.
I learned to kick a ball so I could teach you.
I attempt to hide my fear of dogs so you won't share it.
I change your diapers.
I wash your clothes.
I brush your teeth.
I take you to your potty.
I give you stickers of reward.
I praise you.
I worry about the choices I make.
I discuss your future with your dad.
I watch my language.
I watch my moods.
I change my behaviors.
I try to be a person you would admire.
I avoid saying negative things.
I attend parent meetings at your school.
I show you how to save your money.
I provide healthy foods for you.
I keep the house clean and refrigerator stocked.
I show you all the things to see in the world.
I try to explain what it all means.
I carry you when you don't want to walk.
I encourage you to make good choices.
I teach you how to be a good person.
I buckle you in your carseat.
I clean goldfish out of the car.
I extract toys from the couch.
I love you more than anything.
I guess I'm not a parent...