You know what I’m talking about. The lies we tell in order to make ourselves feel better. Deep down we know they’re probably not true, but it doesn’t stop us. Sometimes it’s because they help us get through the hour/day/month/childhood, but often it’s just what we want to believe. Almost like if you keep telling yourself the white lie, it will suddenly become true. Here are the lies I often tell myself:
1. I’ll catch up on sleep tomorrow.
No I won’t. I’ll continue to tell myself this every day though. It’s how I get through the day.
2. We’re good if we brush his teeth at least once a day.
The dentists always say twice a day. They even say it in toothpaste commercials. However, until you’ve tried brushing the teeth of an ornery, squirming, screaming toddler, you aren’t allowed to judge. Before bed is good enough for now. All those teeth are going to fall out anyways.
3. He’s cranky because he doesn’t feel well.
I always have to have a reason for why AW is fussy. Because God forbid he just be cranky for no apparent reason, or for the simple fact that he’s A TODDLER. Nope. Not my baby. He’s not just fussy for no reason at all. That would be absurd. This probably explains why we’ve spent more on doctor co-pays than we have on our car payments….
4. I love breast feeding. It’s my favorite.
I do for the most part, but did I love the mastitis I got around 10 months? Or the bouts of thrush? Maybe the engorgement? The clogged ducts? The pumping? The cracked and hurting nipples? The feeling completely touched-out? Being the only source of comfort for him? The sacrifice of my personal time? The general loss of my body? There are plenty of reasons NOT to love breast feeding, but it’s good for him, there are so many sweet moments, and he loves it, so I’m just going to continue thinking I love it too….even at 17 months, where he regularly attempts to nurse upside down, while reading a book, eating a granola bar, clapping his hands, sticking his foot in my face, watching Jake and the Never Land Pirates, simultaneously. Good times.
5. He’ll be traumatized forever if I make him cry-it-out.
I know deep down this isn’t really true, but rather the result of reading one too many attachment parenting articles. I’m ok with it though. There are so few years where he is really and truly going to need me, cry for me, call for “mama” during the night, seek my comfort and love, and I’d prefer to hang on to it as long as possible. I actually let him cry a good bit the other night after he continued to wake up every hour or so and I was downright exhausted, but I have to admit that as soon as I went in to his room this morning, I felt horribly guilty. Is it likely that he remembered crying during the night for those 10 minutes? Probably not. But I’m hanging on to the notion that he desperately needed me and was disappointed when I didn’t show up, because I don’t know how much longer he will.
6. He’s always going to love me.
Probably not. Well, hopefully he’ll always love me, but I’m pretty sure he won’t always like me. We refuse to be those parents that are more concerned with being their kid’s best friends than being the actual parents. You know who the type I’m talking about. I had several friends that had the “cool” parents. I was jealous and didn’t understand why my parents had so many rules and restrictions. I certainly didn’t always like them, especially when I was an obnoxious, selfish teenager that just wanted to do what my friends were doing, but hey, I survived, and I didn’t miss out on anything worthwhile. I have no doubt we will go through the same thing with AW, and if that means he doesn’t like me 24/7, as long as we make it through the teenage years, I’ll call it a success.
7. It’s his first Christmas/Halloween/Day of School/Tuesday, so it’s perfectly acceptable to spend $100 on the perfect outfit.
Remember the Pottery Barn Halloween costume from last year? How about those ridiculously cute smocked outfits from Christmas. Don’t even get me started on what we already have for Christmas this year. And don’t for one second think you are going to convince me that he didn’t know he was the best darn looking baby at church on Easter morning, totally rocking that hand stitched, white linen bubble. He knew it, and he owned it.
8. An afternoon at the pool totally counts as a bath.
Water plus chlorine totally equals water plus soap.
What parenting lie do you tell yourself? It’s ok. No judgment here;)