A wise man once said "Nothing about parenting is convenient". Well, actually it was just my neighbour Dave.
It was a beautiful warm summer night and all the neighbours on my street, otherwise know as "Cocktail Crescent" (yes, we enjoy our adult time, responsibly) were sitting outside our houses (baby monitors and all) enjoying a beverage. I can't remember what the fascinating topic of conversation was that night but I do remember those particular words because, to me, truer words have not been spoken.
I'd like to discuss that sentence a little bit more. Maybe throw in an instance that has happened recently. While my husband is away. In another country. For the second time in a month.
So, on top of parenting already not being convenient....let's throw in a parent that travels more than the average working person. A lot more. Talk about inconvenience. Not that I begrudge my husband because he works harder than anyone I know and he does it for us, and so that I get to have the amazing job of being a full time Mummy. Well, okay. I am all about honesty on this blog and will admit, it really sucks sometimes. But I try not to take it out on him. Emphasis on the word try. I like to have a positive mind frame about life....and so I figure, it just makes for more interesting blog material. And really, who has the rougher end of the deal here? A Mummy that gets to stay home and spend time with her babies or a Daddy who yes, might get to sleep in a bit later, and go out for some nice, swanky dinners, but works his little tushy off and misses his family like crazy??? You decide.
What about parenting is inconvenient you ask? (well, only the people with no kids would ever ask such a question) Hmmm. Well let's start with the fact that when they are born, you basically become a slave to a crying, pooping, spitting up, hungry human that is about 1/20th of your size. It cares nothing about the fact that it's 2 am and you were just up 2 hours ago. Dammit! They want to eat! Again! Back to sleep you go, tiptoeing back to bed and gingerly pulling up your bed sheets, as quietly as possible so as not to disturb them....praying to God that this might be the last time they wake until sunrise. Uh uh!! WRONG AGAIN! A sound that couldn't possibly come from such a sweet, delicate creature erupts, stunning you out of the declivity of sweet, sweet sleep. Oh crap. Literally. Here we go again. I know....parenthood....sounds so romantic doesn't it?? Now, before I totally freak you out (those that don't have children - yet) there are many, many, many great moments in between the nitty, gritty. I promise you. Like their first smile, laugh, coos...first steps, the first time they say Mumma, Dadda and I love you. It makes up for the utter exhaustion you feel deep in your bones for the first 6 months or so. No, really, it does.
Back to the topic at hand.
What does, by definition, the word inconvenience mean? According to dictionary.com it defines inconvenience as "something that causes discomfort, trouble, etc."
Okay, so more on the "etc" part of the definition: Inconvenience is car seats and all those damn buckles...tightening, loosening, tightening again, making sure you can fit only. 2. fingers. under. the. straps. It's the total mess that happens after every breakfast, lunch, dinner and let's not forget snack times. The 100 lb diaper bag full of diapers, extra clothes, bottles, sippy cups, wipes, bum cream and let's not forget snacks, that you must NEVER forget when leaving the house, EVER. It's the crying when they're supposed to be sleeping and darn it you need some "me" time, the demand for apple juice when all you have is orange, the whining for raisin bread when all you have are raisins... and.... bread, the times when you're stuck in traffic and they have to go pee RIGHT NOW, the crying for their Spiderman pj's when they're in the wash because they spilt milk on them this morning...remember??? NO! Okay. No more crying over spilt milk!
You get the picture.
Last night Adrian climbs into my bed and says in his sweet, sleepy voice..."Mumma?...Mumma?" Even if his Daddy wasn't away, it would still be me he asks. Of-course. Mothers know all...right? I awake from a deep, deep slumber. "Yes baby?" "I can't find my froggy doggy or my lamby."
Froggy doggy and Lamby are his "comfy" items. Froggy Doggy is a well loved, black and white spotted dog not a frog (I somehow felt the need to make that clear), and Lamby is, you guessed correct! A well loved stuffed lamb, his very first stuffed animal that he received as a gift when he was born.
Most children have an item or 2 that they are attached to. A "lovey" or "boo". Mine has 4. Included with Froggy Doggy (can you tell he named him?) and Lamby (my creative juices were really flowing when I came up with that one) are his "yellow cozy" and "blue cozy". "Cozy" is his term for "comfy item" or otherwise known as very, soft blankies. I know. Pretty adorable.
So, off I go....on a search for the elusive froggy doggy and lamby. Conveniently requested at 2:30 AM.
I, of-course, find them after 5 very long minutes of patting down the entire bed, lifting covers and moving pillows in the utter darkness and bring them back to my bed where Adrian has "conveniently" fallen back asleep....
I lay them down on either side of him, give him a kiss on the cheek and snuggle in beside him, burying myself deep into the cocoon of comfort that is my bed....praying that my other little one sleeps soundly until at least 6.
Now that would be convenient.