Hiding from your children is better than it sounds
Jason Offutt
There are days when every parent spends at least five minutes in the bathroom with the door locked to simply be alone.
For those of you without children, this may seem weird.
Not just weird, but Hollywood parent weird; something Lindsay Lohan’s folks probably did.
For those of you with children, this may not only be all that keeps you from suffering a mental breakdown, it’s the only time you get to eat cookies without sharing.
Being a parent isn’t for the weak, or the sane. As much as parental behavior changes from one child to the next, I wouldn’t say we’d survive a competency hearing any time soon.
Take, for example, your first child.
Parents with one baby are Bubble Wrap Parents.
If Bubble Wrap Parents only have one baby, they stay Bubble Wrap Parents for life and still cut their child’s food.
He’s now 36.
Bubble Wrap Parents have safeguarded every drawer, door, electric outlet, sharp corner and whiskey decanter in the house.
They’ve moved everything potentially dangerous at least six feet off the floor (even the cat), and document every day of their child’s life on an electronic device to watch later and grade their parenting performance for the day.
When Kid No. 2 comes around, everything changes.
Kid No. 2 turns Bubble Wrap Parents into He’s Fine Parents.
The baby dropped his pacifier at the park and put it back in his mouth without Mom and Dad cleansing it in hospital-grade disinfectant.
He’s fine.
The baby just ate table food.
He’s fine.
The baby’s playing with Daddy’s power tools.
He’s fine.
The He’s Fine Parent understands and appreciates how crazy they were with the first baby, and often laugh quietly to themselves.
“Hey, honey. Remember when we kept Little Johnny’s vaccinations up to date?”
“Yeah, that was funny.”
By the time parents get to their third child, parental standards have changed dramatically.
These are the I Just Hope Someone Doesn’t Call DFS Parents.
For example:
Husband: Where’s the baby?
Wife: In the kitchen, I think. She’s never where I left her.
Husband (looking around the corner): Yes, she’s here. Looks like she got into the cutlery.
Wife: Just as long as she hasn’t found my chocolate chips.
Husband: Nope. Now she’s gone into the back yard through the doggie door. Probably grazing again.
Wife: Free-range babies are the best. I just hope someone doesn’t call DFS.
Oh, the times this has happened in our house.
The memories.
I’m not sure if there’s some magical cutoff number when parents become irrelevant in the rearing of a child.
I imagine at around eight or nine children, it gets kind of hard to make sure everyone’s dressed, bathed and fed, or to remember anyone’s name — even your own. The kids probably take care of their own upbringing at that point.
So, when out there birthing babies, just remember, the more you have, the easier it is to parent — you just don’t.
And don’t forget the simple pleasures of hiding in the bathroom.
Jason Offutt’s novel, “A Funeral Story,” is available at amazon.com.
