Some backstory: I am a parent.
My husband and I have a bundle of kids. We’ve been doing this parent thing for over a decade now, and I have learned so much. About my children. About society. About life. About myself.
Having children really opens your mind to bigger concepts of what life is really made of. Big picture ideas and such.
Being a mother has changed everything about how I was planning on living my life. I love my family, and I love all of my children more than life itself.
Sometimes, I leave the house and get together with friends in a place that will give us nachos and margaritas, and then more nachos. I leave my apron hanging in the kitchen. I put on my fancy clothes (totally Instagramming that). I do my hair and put on my bitchin’ red lipstick. I look freaking stunning. The night is ours, my friends.
I love going out with girlfriends. I love laughing with them. I love talking with adults. I love relaxing with my girls.
But I swear to you … if I go to another Girls’ Night Out event and have to talk about which diapers we have used, or how to make sandwiches that kids will eat, or how lemon essential oils will take gum out of your kids’ hair …
I am seriously going to start punching people in the face.
Listen: We are all in this parenting thing together. We are all doing the best we can. We can all learn from each other, no doubt. But if we have babysitters at home watching the kids, and we are wearing our grown-up clothes and our very favorite heels … we are not talking shop.
There are five conversations in particular that come up often, upon which I will put my shiny heel down.
5. Naptimes. Bedtimes. Reading Times. Poop Times.
It is interesting to talk shop with other parents. But if we are having a Girls’ Night Out, I am not talking shop. We do not need to spend the evening talking about the perfect naptime schedule. Message me on Facebook with techniques for how to get your wiggly 4-year-old to keep taking naps. Email me with some article you read about “baby-led positive self-regulating attachment naptime sticker chart schedule competence.”
But if I am holding an amber beer in my hand, I am not talking about naptimes. If I hear shop from your lips, I am ordering you three more martinis and getting you shitfaced until you start solving the world’s problems based on this crazy theory you had when you were 22. Then I’m driving your relaxed, adult ass back home.
Girlfriends gotta stick up for each other.
4. What to Feed the Kids
I am going to be so humbug about this, but hear me out.
Feed them food.
3. How to Clean the House
I hate cleaning the house. I clean my house because we have seven people here, and I may or may not be the worst offender in leaving cups lying around. I remember one time I listened to a perfectly sane woman go on for an hour about how to clean your kitchen counters and what percentage of the counter space should be occupied. Apparently 15 percent of your kitchen table should be used for centerpieces—more than 15 percent, and it starts to get crowded.
Here’s the deal: If you love organizing your kitchen, great.
More power to you.
But if we are shoving nachos into our faces, the percentage of counter space available in my kitchen is the last thing on my mind. That and, perhaps, the GNP of Amsterdam. But even that is still more interesting to me than counter space percentages.
2. My Period
Ladies, we have been getting our periods since we were 12. Most of us get them every single month. I get my period exactly three weeks after I stop bleeding from birth, so I have no break, other than pregnancy. It is a constant I can always rely on. I don’t need to talk about it. At all. It has nothing to do with being embarrassed, or feeling uncomfortable, or being grossed out by it. I have been changing diapers for 10 years. There has been poop on things in my house that I never expected. Menstruation is not even factoring on my gross-out meter. There are just better, more thought-provoking things to talk about other than our periods.
Another Bloody Mary? Don’t mind if I do.
1. My Birth Story
It was exciting when it first happened—of course it was! It was birth! The miracle of life! From my body. It was an incredible, life-changing moment. But it is just not my main focus of conversation anymore. Unless you just had a baby, unless you are going to have a baby, unless it honestly just comes up in conversation. Even though this is an enormous, life-altering, incredible, amazing event we have all gone through, we actually don’t need to rehash the details of our epidurals over cocktails. Again. For the five millionth time. We’ve all done it, and your youngest is 14 years old. Let’s move on, shall we?
Now, if you will please pass the salt, we can get this party started.
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