Since little Isaac has been born, and especially since I’ve
been back to work, I’ve been faced with a barrage of questions, similar in
frequency to those I mentioned here pre-baby, but of an altogether different
variety.
Everyone has been asking questions about the little dude,
but in stark contrast to the ‘Before’ questions I don’t mind answering them
because I love talking about the little man. I’m hugely proud and swell with
paternal pride whenever I get the chance to talk about him. But I’ve noticed a
trend with some of the people I’ve been talking to, in that no matter how bad
your own experience with your child has been (not that mine has, he’s been
pretty chilled out and easy going so far) theirs will always be infinitely
worse.
So if, for example, you say that he wakes up every three
hours at night time for a feed, someone will pipe up with the fact that their
child was up every two hours, and that their burden was greater and although
you may be tired they had it much harder than you do. And if there’s another
parent in earshot they’ll no doubt chime in with even worse horror story,
designed to make you - the new parent - feel like you’re getting an easy ride,
when you obviously know yourself that you’re not. I’m not saying these people
are lying but for the love of God, can you let me enjoy this time without
chipping in with your tales of woe, that make you seem like you’re the better
parent for enduring more hardship than I currently am?
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| "I'm worse than you." "Am not." |
The stories seems to get exponentially worse the more often
these people tell them and often end up with me leaving the conversation with
the idea that their baby is possibly the Antichrist.
- “Oh, he’s sleeping pretty well at nights. Sometimes in
four hour stretches, so I can’t really complain too much.”
- “Well, you’re lucky, both of my two were up every two
hours and needed a 6oz feed to get them back to sleep. And even then it was
only for another two hours.”
- “You think that’s hard? My little girl had the worst colic
you could imagine, and regularly threw up everywhere.”
- “Pfft, that’s nothing. My boy was up screaming bloody
murder every night and wouldn’t go back to sleep unless he had 10oz feed every
hour and a half, which I had to go and milk the cow for, just to fill the
bottle.”
- “*scoffs* Well, my boy wouldn’t shut up for three months
straight and eventually we had to gag him and put him in a straight jacket just
so we could get some sleep.”
- “Well, my son is the reincarnated Adolf Hitler”
- “We had to get a priest in who confirmed our little bundle
of joy was actually the physical earthly manifestation of Lucifer himself, born
to wreck havoc on humanity and bring about the apocalypse.”
Take a goddamn chill pill, you lot. It’s not a competition,
so don’t make me feel inferior by telling me I’m on easy street with my son.
Please don’t diminish my own experience when I’m still experiencing it.
