During our vacation, we toted Bri around to see lots of family members, and she had a blast. She’s a very social little butterfly and she loves to check out the ceilings of new places. When we went to Cracker Barrel, she was in hog heaven. I’d never noticed how many strange contraptions were attached to the ceiling of their gift shops. But Bri loved looking at each and every floating item.
Now, Hubs and I have developed our routine for outings, and because Bri loves to examine new places, she has wonderful manners out in public. In short, we have our act together.
While we were dining with Hubster’s extended family, at a Mexican restaurant, one of his aunts asked, “Is she always this easy?” Her surprised tone seemed to indicate that we were missing out on the hardship of real parenting. She didn’t mean to offend me. In fact, I believe she was complimenting us for Bri’s remarkably good behavior.
At first, I didn’t know how to respond. We just smiled and kept on moving. But the question has haunted me. Mostly because, the theme of our vacation seemed to be this idea that “we are unusually blessed” to have such an “EASY baby.” Like, hello, am I missing something? Is there really any such thing as an easy baby? And why exactly do you think that my child, who screams if I leave the room, and goes into hysterics if I don’t feed her fast enough, is so much easier than yours?
Parenting is hard.
End of story.
Bri was indeed marvelously well-behaved for our entire vacation. She rarely cried and was easily entertained. We all had a great time. On Sunday, when we returned home, she had a fever and I spent the whole afternoon soothing her and holding her while she slept. Monday, she screamed all day and refused to even let me go to the bathroom without being by my side.
This clingy phase drains me and leaves me with piles of laundry to fold and dishes to wash after she’s gone to bed. My nerves are shot from listening to her cry. If this is the easy version of parenting, then I’m afraid to have more kids. Where I once felt needed, because she wanted her Mama, I now feel like a prisoner.
A prisoner with a chubby little “easy” baby for a ball and chain.
Filed under: motherhood, silly me | 4 Comments »