All go as a single parent
Molly wants to enjoy her child, but not at 6am
A lot of my friends don’t have children yet. I’m looking forward to them saying, “I don’t know how you coped.” Neither do I! Do people really enjoy parenting? When? The odd shared bath or tickling session when they giggle uncontrollably (even though technically you are forcing them by prodding their armpits). Who truly, day in, day out, loves parenting?
“There’s no waking up slowly with a toddler: it’s go go go from the minute they wake”
People in couples, if anyone, I imagine. The ones who get to say, “You go settle her,” at 4am, for the third waking of the night. It’s always me. It’s me who gets up the first time, the second time, and third time she wakes. It’s me who bathes her before bed, it’s me who makes her dinner, it’s me who fights her to get her nappy and pyjamas on (why don’t kids like this? I wish someone would put me to bed). It’s me who then cleans the kitchen (yup, ok, so not every night.) Often I collapse on my bed, eating Poundland Twix bars searching eBay for those tan leather boots with a chisel toe, that will be practical, yet stylish, and will bring more balance to my life than a Deepak Chopra book. I imagine myself in these boots running for a bus looking effortlessly sexy pushing the buggy through the rain…
Anyway, it’s me who gets up after two to three hour bouts of crap sleep at 6.30am and stumbles into her room grabbing her, mumbling, “Morning” (must tell her it’s morning so she knows the difference between day and night, that’s what it says in the book. Must, must, must be a good parent). It’s then me who carries her off, puts on the TV and lies face down on the bed wishing she could make me a cup of tea. “Two sugars pweese.” Hey, she’s starting saying please and thank you! It sounds like ‘pweese” and ‘dank yoo’, but she says it!
I feel very proud/smug when other kids are grabbing each others toys shouting ”Mine!,” I feel like I might possibly be a good parent. That is until I remember I start most days with my face in a pillow while she shouts at me to make her breakfast. I always hope Teletubbies will distract her from hunger for a little while, just while I lie down just that bit longer. I’m trying to wake up and unite limbs with brain, so that I don’t electrocute myself making her toast. I’m so asleep I might put the DVD in the toaster, the rye bread in the DVD.
There’s no waking up slowly with a toddler: it’s go go go from the minute they wake. She bangs the cot as my wake-up call (and probably looks cute if I could open my eyes enough to focus), I pick her up and we walk into my living room/bedroom and she’s rather embarrassingly grabbing the remote control as soon as we enter. She politely offers me a bit of toast, I feel like a good parent, enjoying her. I say, “Dank yoo”.
