What They Don’t Tell You
Have kids, they said. They’re so cute. Look at all those tiny outfits and tiny socks and tiny hats. So cute. Don’t you want more? So adorable. Couldn’t you just eat them up? They’ll sleep eventually. They’ll eat it one day. Just look at how sweet they are, asleep in your arms.
Here’s what they don’t tell you, and maybe you figured it out on your own but maybe you put it out of your mind for a while or a decade: those cute adorable tiny socks turn into piles of inside-out balled-up socks, sometimes found in the backseat of your car. Those tiny hats turn into three rounds on why you cannot wear a flat brim hat (you are going to church, and you are not Vanilla Ice), and those adorable outfits turn into midriff-baring very tight points of contention.
Sleeping through the night? Now they are sleeping well into the day - and going to bed far later than their weary parents. The little tiny sippy cups have - seemingly overnight - turned into stacks of tervises and water bottles lining the dressers and nightstands of your teen and tween bedrooms. One day they barely ate two chicken nuggets and a tablespoon of applesauce. Now they eat ALL DAY LONG.
What they don’t tell you is how fast it goes, and how even when they are scarfing down their second giant bowl of cereal, wearing their headphones and loungewear (don’t call it pjs, mom), if you look at them sideways and in the right light, they are still that tiny baby with the tiny socks. Sometimes.