Sunday, September 16, 2018

Dear Friends Without Children

Dear Friends Without Children,

   While I love you all dearly, having children has changed my life, as I'm sure you can imagine! Some of this for the better, some of it not. Children have blessed me in the most unimaginable way possible, however, I am still envious of you. Let me give you some examples.

   When you called last night asking if I could go out and have a few drinks with you, I said no. I said no, because my tiny heathens children, had just laid down for bedtime, and I was in the middle of my two hour back-and-forth of reminding them they don't live in a desert and they don't require a drink of water every thirty seconds to survive. I was in the middle of interrupting a dozen fights with stuffed animals, jumping on the bed, and basically having a free-for-all because mom was not in the room. So you went out without me.
When you woke with a hangover at 1 p.m., you called to tell me all about Paul, or Randy, or whatever the guy's name is that you took home last night. I was envious that you had gotten to sleep in, as my children were up, demanding pancakes and frozen yogurt at 5:30 a.m. My tiny terrorists tots then threw epic meltdowns because someone's milk was spilled on the floor, the plate was the wrong color, and the fork should have had Paw Patrol characters, NOT Ninja Turtles. 

  When you asked to go have coffee, alas, I told you you were more than welcome to come over for a cup. You declined, stating you had errands afterwards. It's okay that you probably lied to me, I know that my house is in a constant struggle to look as if there wasn't just a break-in, and the Legos and Hot Wheels on the floor weren't tiny booby traps to thwart potential burglars. I get that you think that my house is dysfunctional and chaotic. It is rather difficult to hold a conversation when you're constantly interrupting yourself to tell a tiny human to quit hitting their brother, get their finger out of their nose, and the dog is not a horse.

   At lunch time, you asked to stop by for a quick chat, now that you're "errands" were done. I told you no. I told you no because the little brats had finally passed the hell out in the living room on the floor and I didn't dare allow a sound in the house to wake them, otherwise I would have had to deal with cranky assholes all day.

   Dear childless friend, I invited you to the tot's t-ball game, but you shot me down because you don't care for sports. I don't either, but my son does and I support him wholeheartedly in his pursuit for a healthy, active life. This was one of your few opportunities to hang out, as, I'm sure you can imagine, I have children with me all the time. They are my own tiny gang, that dictates my schedule, because although I make the rules, they have made me their bitch.

  At dinner time, I invited you to come to Chuck E. Cheese for pizza with us, because they also serve beer. You claimed it was too loud. How you could possibly say such a thing, as the bar you were at the night before had people screeching like cats to words on a screen while everyone catcalled and encouraged further drinking, is a little strange to me. However, there are different types of noise, if you become a parent, you will soon learn this. Chuck E. Cheese was the best option, as children only eat a varied diet of chicken nuggets, pizza, and Mac n' Cheese for the first 10 years of their life.

   During bath time, I had a few minutes to FaceTime with you, to which, you made a point to tell me I should relax more, and "go with the flow". The flow, when you have children, my dear friend, looks like a constant street fight with hitting, biting, punching, food thrown all over the floor, crying, and the neighbors hating you in general because you're children are too loud. Going with the flow, when you have children, is a fuckin' disaster. Instead, every parent plays a tiny dictator where you're words are law, and you have to repeat them 90 times before your child will learn them, and begin to ignore them like the teenager they are turning into.

   As stated, I love my children immensely, my dearest friend, however, this doesn't mean that I wouldn't give them to a gypsy that would make them work for their dinner like a trained circus monkey. They would probably enjoy it too. I love the little moments that I have with the little terrors, like endless stories where they grill me on colors, shapes, and characters. I love the way they squeal with delight when you give them belly farts on their tummy. I love how sweet and precious they look when they fall asleep, knowing it's just a rouse to make you fall in love with them again before they wake in a few hours to torture you again.

   I'm Envious of you my  childless friend, with you're ability to spend your money on things other than diapers, toys, and clothes you won't ever be able to fit inyo in your lifetime. I'm envious of the fact that you can go to bed at 5 p.m. and not wake until 7 a.m. if you feel like it. I'm envious of your much healthier, and varied diet.

   So in conclusion, my childless friend, thank you for inviting me to do all the fun things you are privileged to do that I cannot.  Keep on inviting me as some day I may be able to participate. I don't tell you no because I don't want to do these fun things with you, I tell you no because someone else rules my life. Tiny lives that I've created, that act infuriatingly just like me. Enjoy your sleep, your ability to spend money as you wish, and go where you like, having neighbors that don't hate you for your loud kids, and quiet life. Enjoy it, because when you have kids, you're life will end up just like mine. A whole lot of blessed, an quite a bit stressed.

With Loving Regards,

Your friend whose now a parent

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