Turn the baby monitor off before you argue
I’ve decided to use my latest post as research for a book I’d like to write. It’s called 101 Things They Don’t Tell You About Being A Parent. It may be called 1001 Things – if I get enough responses. Please help me with your UGC (user generated content) below, as I have three hungry mouths to feed.
The baby books give you plenty of details about the birthing process. There are volumes dealing with baby/toddler/infant illnesses and the symptoms to look out for (different books for different stages, in fact). There are books that explain how to raise your child to be happy. Others explain the nuances of raising boys. Or alternatively, of course, girls.
There are even books explaining how to get your sex life back on track when, frankly, you’re too tired to masturbate.
But never did I read in a baby book that one day I would stand on a small toy in the dark of night (really small, like a piece of Lego – actually, specifically a piece of Lego) and that it would cause me to twist my ankle and/or pull the Christmas tree over as I instinctively grabbed something to stop me falling. And to me, that would have been every bit as helpful as potty training.
So, in a bid to help new parents (and possibly make some cash in the process), I’ve detailed below four pieces of invaluable advice I have learnt in my first ten years on the job.
If you could either agree with my lessons below in your responses, or even better add some of your own observations I’d be really grateful.
You will have a meningitis scare at some point in your child’s life.
Your child will be sick and have some sort of rash. You will have something stuck to the fridge that outlines the warning signs of meningitis.
The easiest symptom to check is that “your child will shy away from light”. You will therefore hold your six-month-old screaming baby about 3mm from a 200-watt bulb in the kitchen and they will recoil in appropriate terror.
You will then be in the car and off to casualty before you can say “contraception”.
Children’s books are impossible to stack neatly.
If you have always loved reading, keep your library of contemporary fiction in pristine order on your Ikea shelves and wish your children to share your enjoyment, you are in for a shock.
Reading, yes; bookshelves, no. There is no uniformity to kids books: some are five inches tall and three feet long; others are shaped like a regular novel, but two foot thick and made of cloth; some are an inch square; others again are the size of a dustbin lid, made of plywood, and squeak if you lean a piece of felt against them.
You will NEVER stack these books to your liking. Believe it or not, one day you will thank God for Harry Potter.
Kids pushchairs are harder to collapse when somebody is waiting for your car parking space.
It’s almost too traumatic to elaborate on this one. Suffice to say: busy car park + complicated, Rubik’s cube-style, collapsible pushchair + bloke in Ute impatiently giving you the evil eye = partially severed finger and very cross daddy.
Turn the baby monitor off before you argue.
Your dinner guests don’t want to hear that “yes, it is your f-ing turn, because I was up fifteen f-ing times in the f-ing night, and they’re not even my f-ing friends”.
Better to just hear the gentle breathing of your sleeping baby, followed by their waking screams, followed by the off switch.
I’ll thank you to add to these pearls of wisdom below. Oh, and if you could also add something such as “I agree to Rob Pegley taking the copyright for my comments and passing them off as his own work for financial gain”, that would also be really helpful. Happy parenting!
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