An elite band of difficult kids… I have one

Just that title is probably enough to put me on the ‘we’re watching you for the take your child away from you after strike three’ list. I think the polite term is high-needs or some such namby-pamby cr@p. But who gives a sh!t right? When you have one of these critters, politically correct b*llocks suddenly goes to way down on the list. Below great-aunt Agatha’s views on disposable diapers.... And sex. So strike three is probably going to be at the end of line 3! So if you don't think you can take that, leave now... etc

But I digress… there is a point to all this, which hopefully I’ll get to sometime in this post.

I have an almost two year old. I’m a first time mom. Accidental at best, downright unwilling most times. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m a d@mn good one, but I have to work my butt off for it. Usually made much, much harder by the fact that miss-projectile-vomit-turned-poop-when-I’m-bored decided to be atypically p!ssing off each step of the way. Born in distress, NICU for a day and everything. Silent –refluxer. And when that got better, she became a puker (apparently that IS getting better from silent reflux). Ah joy! Besides a few weeks at infancy when she pulled 10-6 stretches (just to show me what its like and then viciously take it away) she’s never really slept through the night. When solid time rolled around, she flatly refused to open her mouth. When switch-to-regular-person-milk time came, she decided to throw in a cow’s milk allergy. Add to that separation anxiety for 20 out of 23+ months and a slightly creepy need to hang on to my hair most times and you’ve got a complete weirdo. Early memo on terrible twos, tantrums, teething on crack… That’s just what I can remember now. (Did I say your brain gets all fuzzy from lack of sleep and confidence?) Lots more where that came from. And that’s who I’m stuck with most of the day! And it can mess with you big time.

So if you’re a rose-tinted idealist who believes babies were born to complete you, and that no trouble is too much trouble when you’re raising God’s creation, look away quick, this is going to be road kill. Of the kind you'll never comprehend. 

Yes its God’s little creation. But, also, yours; said God help you. Vodka/w$ed/stupidity/complacency/I can do this better than Edie/insert your haze here fueled little b&gger though it might be, it’s yours. And you’re probably not going back into that haze anytime soon if you want to hold on to it. So you trudge on. Just know, you are not alone. Everything that you’ve seen, I’ve probably seen between me and a few of my unfortunate buddies. Yes I have them. And we huddle sometimes and discuss it in hushed whispers, kinda like the way you’d talk about a yeast infection! (oh, bring on the comments here, but hey, I’ve never backed away from a b!tchslapping so why start now).

So my point is… when I looked around for help, I found all these books about how your baby was meant to have been perfect by now, tut-tut. Or some abandon-them-and-let-them-cry type plans that I could never get myself to do. Trust me I tried halfheartedly. I want to say as well at this point that I’m no advocate of one way of parenting over another. Though I’ve read them all from Dr Sears to Gina Ford, via Tracy Hogg, any lofty views I had on how perfectly I would do it disappeared with my waistline at the birth.

Anytime I found some helpful non-judgmental advice it was usually in tandem with an ‘I eat cabbage leaves at midnight, in my swimwear’ type sentence that made me question the credibility of the person in question. Plus it was never all in one place - making for hours of frenzied googling on smart phone with baby attached to less than previously attractive body parts. I always saw ‘oh mine won't sleep at all, and here’s what I’ve tried but he does eat like a trooper, bless!’ which made me come away feeling worse. And alone. So I thought I’d put down random bits and bobs, as they come to me. Stuff that helps, stuff that certainly doesn’t/you'd do best not to waste your time on and general blah. Who knows, it might help you; and if not hopefully you’ll come away with a laugh.