How did we survive before the internet? Certainly our parenting was far more driven by our own intuition than by that of our good friend Mr. Google. I suppose there were those things called parenting books that people could read.
“You are so lucky to have the internet,” my mom will often tell me. This is after I express to her that I’m refusing to give my kid juice before middle school because I’ve read somewhere on the internet that it’s a no-no. Or that my toddler won’t be wearing a winter jacket in her car seat because I’ve now seen the 12th video on how it could one day save her life.
How did this information get communicated so quickly before? Beats me.
This post was featured on Netmums.com
It has been a month since my last post. Life has gotten pretty busy – as they do.
Then this happened the other day. And I felt the urge to write about it.
I went to the park by our house for the 1000th time. It was one of those particularly repetitive days of motherhood. You know the ones.
Baby, Toddler, and I walked up to the park and headed for the swings. Consistently, the first stop on every trip to the park.
I catch the eye of the only other mom there, with her two toddlers and a baby strapped to her chest.
What is the last thing you do before going to bed? Give your significant other a kiss? Quick cuddle? Chat until you feel like falling asleep, then separate to your respective sides of the bed and fall asleep?
That’s how we used to do it. Before our smart phones became our cuddle buddies.
I was quite late in the game to join the smart phone party. I got my first one only this year after my trusty Blackberry of 5 years crashed on me. It had sketchy internet at best. No Facebook. No apps. Just texting and sometimes Google Maps if you really wanted to take your time and work at it.
That title sounds rather formidable. Maybe it should read more like “how do I survive hosting guests for multiple nights while keeping my children, myself, and my household alive”.
My husband’s parents arrived the middle of last week to stay for five days. On the one hand, I was ecstatic that they could come see Baby M while she’s so young and hear Little N tell stories over and over again about random things like how the power went out at her daycare four months ago. Skype just doesn’t quite cut it after a while.
On the other hand, I hate playing host. Some people are amazing at hosting. I will be the first to admit, that is just not me.
Here is what I don’t like about hosting:
Baby has officially tasted something other than boob milk. And other than her sister’s fingers, or the lint on the floor, or that thing she ate that shall not be mentioned.
I painstakingly make all her food myself. No, it’s really not that bad. Most of the time I make a bunch of food and freeze it so it’s almost the same convenience as having store bought. Kind of.
I usually pick up mums at the local Starbucks here. It’s the best place to meet them. You know you have a mutual love for coffee and spend a ridiculous amount on it, probably daily. And you also immediately have other little humans that can entertain your little humans.
I think this mum actually picked me up this time. We were standing in line and she asked how old my daughter was. Then the universal mum talk came out as we immediately had a million things in common to chat about.
We barely got through our orders as we tried to dish out things about our kids and discuss how mum life both sucks (I’m so tired) and is awesome (look at that adorable smile).
Six months after baby #2, we were having our first date night away from the kids. Our overnight bag was packed and I was on my way to pick up hubby from work.
I drove away from my household with grandma carrying Baby M on her hip and grandpa reading Toddler a book whilst she makes a fort out of the dozen burpers and blankets I had just nicely folded and will surely stay unfolded until I am cursing the world looking for them at some later date.
For the next 20 minutes I had to convince myself half a dozen times that I hadn’t forgotten the baby somewhere. And that it was okay to turn the volume up on the radio because I didn’t have those delicate little eardrums in the backseat.