I am a mother of two little children – I hate it when other parents give me this terrible advice

I am the parent of two children under three, and it is a hard bloody job.

Don’t go wrong, I love my boys with the fire of a burning sun.

But I am deep in the trenches of the parents of young parents, and this is draining my life from me.

I thought it was generally accepted that this was, objectively, the most difficult part of parenting. But I was told I’m wrong.

“Just done differently”

Bright tiredness, tantrums, the inability to negotiate with two small (but delightful) emotional terrorists, who insist on carrying a whole blueberry work, inserting them throughout the floor, walking into them, and then crying because they cannot eat soft, compressed blueberries.

But recently a friend with older children told me that “parenting does not get easier, it just becomes different.”

Now, I am sure that parents of parents’ school age come with challenges. Parents’ teens are without a doubt complex.

But the parents of the parents and the little ones are complete, without stop, sleepless, anxiety, back-back-marathons-with-no-breaks level things.

Parenting young children means losing yourself and your body and, honestly, your mind.

So I don’t admit that parents stand THIS hard in eternity.

I just don’t.

“Good old days”

I think that when my friend with good sense said things became â € differential, but not easier, -yo is really meant to say â € œ I have deliberately blocked all memories of nights when I was literally woke up 13 times different to the needs of an eight-month-old tooth without any self-sacrifice.

And this is not a shadow on it!

From an evolutionary point of view, it is important that we, as a species, immediately forget how difficult it is to have and grow very small people so that one day we can decide to have more.

I am, for her sake, happy that she has forgotten how difficult she is, because trauma lives very vividly in my mind.

I don’t deceive it that happy ignorance.

I somehow cheat my colleague who, after hearing about this story, insisted that my friend be accurate and referred to having young children as “good old days”.

Good old days?

Good old days?

I was set up at 4:20 am, this morning wiping my morning baby from folding my little spin of my greasy legs ???

I took a shower and still went to work by smelling poorly, but clearly it will be?

Are we really calling them these old days? “

Am I Punk’d?

I don’t want to reduce anyone’s experience to fight during parenting, but I think the usual sense should go into the game at one point.

As an example: When I take my boys for breakfast with my best friend and her eight-year-old daughter, my sons weep differently, fight with each other, fall down, stain croissant chocolate throughout myself and I (I have not dared to wear white for three years and count, practice lion-roam in the bystanders. It is going well, the required thanks, required to ask, looking, looking good.

My wife’s eight -year -old politely observes politely, eating her meal and telling me about her new class teacher.

Is it really expected to claim that these two things are the same?

Am I punching?

Honestly, the next time someone with older children tells me that it will be easier, I will ask them how many hours a night they will sleep.

If they do not know immediately the answer I will know they will be full of shit because the parents in my The parenting phase takes into account every precious minute.

When they finally tell me – maybe something sick like “, throughout happy uninterrupted hours, thanks” I doubt I won’t be able to help myself.

“Huh. This actually sounds much easier, “I’ll say, and guess what?

I will be right.