5 Things I Wish I Had Known

Catherine Durkin Robinson

You and your partner were walking down the street one day, enjoying zero responsibilities and a hefty savings account and thought, “How can we mess this up?” Then you caught sight of a baby and got misty-eyed. You stared at these babbling creatures with newfound awe and smiled knowingly at parents without noticing the dark circles under their eyes or the look of sheer desperation in their faces.

Instead of calling Suicide Prevention, you winked.

Yes, after a few chapters of those What to Expect books, you hugged and kissed and downed a bottle of Jack Daniels and here you are nine months later with a little person who will cost you all of that savings account and most of those brain cells.

Suckers.

I was once a new mother myself. I stocked up on Baby Mozart CDs and joined mommy groups and power-walked with a stroller and sold Avon and made organic baby food and read Goodnight Moon nine hundred times and screamed into a pillow every day because my breasts sagged down to my belly button and Elmo was my closest friend.

You too will survive the madness.

Here’s how:

1. Avoid trendy parents.

One new philosophy I’ve been hearing about is Communication Elimination. Manic mommies watch their babies closely and when the kid looks ready to blow, they stick them on a potty. Some mommies even encourage waste disposal in a group setting. Doesn’t matter where kiddies go as long as it’s not in a diaper. You’re supposed to whisper “sssss” into their ears while they sit on a mini-toilet wondering why Mommy is invading their personal space.

New parents already have no life. Now they need to differentiate between smiles and gas pains before rushing newborns off to eliminate every 20 minutes. That leaves zero time for talking on the phone. Do parents really need another issue to stress about? Do children need to grow up thinking a bowel movement in the sink is acceptable? Do I really share voting habits with these people?

Stick with Pampers or the cloth variety. Allow your little bundle of joy to master the art of keeping saliva in his mouth first.

2. Two words: Date night.

It’s easy to lose that lovin’ feeling when your man smells like regurgitated breast milk. But let’s face it, you’re no prize either. Have you looked in the mirror lately? Your hair resembles a science experiment and the last time your man squeezed your breasts, one of them squirted something in his eye.

Summon the grandparents and get out of the house. This should be a weekly tradition, like church and calling the in-laws. Hold his hand. Talk about something else besides reflux and your new oatmeal cookie recipe. You don’t have to take out a small loan for dinner and a movie. Date night doesn’t need to be expensive. Take a walk around the block. Buy a six-pack and sit out under the stars. Have sex in your car. Do something. Even if you can’t get a babysitter, put the little rugrat in a car seat after sleepy time and just drive. Talk. At one point, the two of you had something to say to each other. Try to get that back.

3. Turn off the television.

Your rear-end isn’t getting any smaller. And don’t try to make yourself feel better with that old, “I’m doing kegels” excuse. Besides, Oprah isn’t that interesting and Guiding Light’s been canceled. And aren’t those daytime commercials enough to kill anyone’s self-esteem? “Earn your degree from home” and “Have you been injured in an auto accident?” You don’t need a constant reminder, in between emails from former colleagues back at the law firm, that you are now in the same demographic as crystal meth junkies and CSI fans.

4. Happy Hour. Every day. ‘Nuff said.

5. Enjoy the first year.

Kids are annoying, but babies are awfully cute, even if they do look like raisins with hair. They sleep, eat, and poop. That’s it. Once in a while they make cute faces and noises and are almost always happy to see you. Trust me – it doesn’t last.

Get a handle on butt-wiping and burping and you’re home-free for 12 blissful months. After that, your beautiful babies turn into pains in the butt. Seriously. So why rush it? Why spend the first 12 months trying to get them to walk and talk when you spend the rest of your life telling them to shut up and sit down?

This isn’t anything you’ll read in those What to Expect books, but I speak the truth. From experience.

Keep those books around though. They come in handy once your little miracle starts talking back.