I get why parents with kids older than mine do the whole *eye-roll, chuckle, fake head nod* anytime we newbies with the wee babes complain about how hard teething is or how terrible that tantrum was. You know exactly what they're saying to themselves, right?
Oh please. Wait until you can't pick up that crying teething sleep fighting little baby who's now bigger than you in the fucking 2nd grade and proceeds to tell you where to shove it which is soon to be followed by him zooming away in his car with some ho-bag named Tyffanye who just got your son's name tattooed on her ass.
That's not to say that what you're experiencing right now, in this very moment, isn't sucky, complicated, or incredibly challenging. When you're living in the baby-toddler vacuum that seems to be repeating itself day in and day out, even if it is just for a few short days, months, hell, even a year of you and your child's long life, it is truly the hardest thing you've ever done. And let's face it. Being neck deep in total overwhelm doesn't leave much breathing room for perspective.
And sometimes it makes it worse to hear that it's only going to get harder. I mean, the whole "consider yourself lucky because you can still throw them in a crib" speech doesn't really do much for the bedraggled sleep-deprived mother who on any given night would much rather pick her son up from jail because then she wouldn't have had to listen to him scream all night long.
But on the off chance that you've enjoyed four days of uninterrupted sleep, completely devoid of poopy diapers and nagging preschoolers, you will be able to appreciate the 15-year-old (or thereabouts) girl in the seat across the aisle from you on the trip home tell her parents quite matter-of-factly that she's going to go to bartending school instead of her first year of college because "it's a great job and it pays really well and they don't actually drink the alcohol they just give it out."
And suddenly, my naughty little three-year-old girl who decided to do "laundry" in her humidifier with half her pajamas and then proceeded to hang them over her wooden now water stained headboard seems incredibly easy. Refreshing, actually. And handling my teething high energy 14-month-old who refuses to go to sleep without extensive rocking is a piece of cake.
Besides, since I'm probably never ever going to get sleep anyway, I might as well enjoy losing it to a screaming contained child and not a daughter at her prom or a son on a road trip with his friends.
Yep. Better start the xanax stash now.