Parents have microscopic attention spans. Apparently. It’s why every parenting article published today is in the form of a list. Lists of things parents think/ do/ say/ like/ should do/ should buy/ shouldn’t do/ shouldn’t think…… Like “7 ways to unleash your child’s play-doh creativity” and “12 things you should never say to a parent of a very hairy child.”
Reading full stories with a beginning, middle and end is too much. Paragraphs hurt the brain. Make everything simple please. Lists only. Big words, no. Where coffee?
So, like a total hypocrite, here’s my list of “parenting lists” we don’t need to have listed anymore:
Always written by fathers.
Dear Dads, girls are smaller versions of the woman who birthed them. Remember her? Same diff but smaller. Not so mysterious.
Boys play with their penises and like to play rough. Pretty much exactly like every other adult male you’ve ever met. No surprises here.
“You’re fat.” End of list
(Although, here are some more suggestions if you want to avoid a slap in the chops)
Would it have changed your mind if you’d known? Seriously. Would the words “you’ll never sleep 8 hours in a row again” make you say “shit, better not have kids then!” ??
This list is like a letter to your tiny child which says, “I wish I’d known you’d be so bloody demanding. I would’ve just bought another cat.”
Yes, yes, very funny stuff. You have poo under your nails and you haven’t washed in weeks. Oh it’s like a magical mystery tour.
Here’s something a little less cryptic that will help you know for sure if you’re a mum…. That kid who lives in your house!
There’s NO FUCKING WAY. This list is lies and will only lead to tears – YOURS. Toddlers have tantrums. They’re irrational. You can’t reason with the small people. The toddler years are about survival. Hopefully you’ll reach the other end and the trauma will wipe the horror from your memory forever.
Unless it is 6752 ways to suddenly feel like you’ve had 72 hours sleep, it’s not going to help.
Actually I really love these lists. Especially if it includes names like Moo and Lexus.
Look, we are all the worst kind of parent; according to someone else. Can we all just agree that we are doing the best we can and stop trying to make it a competition? I couldn’t care less about competing to be the “best” mum. What would I even win?
If you feel you need to compare yourself to everyone else to feel good about yourself, go right ahead. I’m not playing that game.
Some days I feel like I am The Pyjamas of the Cat because I am THAT impressive (not the be confused with The Cat in The Hat. Shudder). Other days I worry I’m going to end up on the news in 18 years time apologising for my son’s homicidal rampage because I didn’t discipline him enough as a toddler.
So, basically, I’m paying far too much attention to my own child to worry about what you’re doing with yours. K?
The end. Of Lists. Forever.
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