Parenting: no place for wussies.

I just looked up wuss in the dictionary to see if it was even a recognized word and to see how in the heck you spell it. The definition is a weakling or a wimp. Yep, parenting is no place for the weak or the wimpy.

Are you ever really prepared to become a parent? Ben and I always wanted to have kids. We always pictured ourselves having kids when we were adults, you know, when Ben had a mustache and used aftershave, and I stopped chewing Big League gum and grew 3 or 4 inches. So last year when we found out we were expecting, Ben tried to grow out a mustache and beard and I tried to give up Big League. It didn’t work out for us.

It’s ironic, really. You are pregnant for 9 months and read all this stuff about what you should expect and how to ‘parent’ and then you have this little person at the hospital, strap him in the carseat to leave, and arrive home to realize 2 things:

1. You totally forgot everything you read about.
2. All babies are different and your baby didn’t come with an instruction manual.

I have to agree that being a parent is the single most incredible thing I’ve been blessed to do, but it is also the most challenging. And my PB isn’t even trying to smoke or drive fast cars yet! He started daycare on Monday. It was so hard to drop him off and leave him in a room full of strangers. It broke my heart. I know it will be good for him, though, and I’m excited to see watch him make baby friends and learn to play with others.

I love watching him grow and watching his little personality develop. It’s so fun to see all that he is learning. At the same time, I’m always sad to see one of his little ‘stages’ end. It seems to me that parenting is like a roller coaster. It is wonderful, happy, sad, scary, and fun all at the same time. How can that be?

When we took PB for his last set of shots, I saw the nurse come in with the needles, and as usual, I was ready to run, looking for the quickest way out. I wanted to leave the room and didn’t want to see him get that shot. But then it hit me that I AM his mom, and that I want to be with him so he doesn’t get so scared. As the nurse stuck the first needle in his little leg, I got weak, and seriously thought I would pass out. She then stuck him two more times. He cried for about 2 minutes, and then he found a string and start chewing on it, while Ben was making him laugh through the tears. I, on the other hand, had pit stains clear down to my jeans, was clammy, and had turned white.

Yep, parenting is no place for wussies.


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