One Child Concepts

Let’s talk for a minute about standards.

Before you have kids, you try not to be judgy, but you still side-eye the mom carrying her caterwauling kid like a surfboard out of Target just a little. And you have a variety of ideas around television, sugar consumption and disciplinary effectiveness, none of which have been road-tested but sure sound like they’re gonna work like gangbusters.

Then you find out that your firstborn is en route. You spend approximately two million dollars decorating a nursery, filling it with ultra-soft fancy blankets, baskets from Pottery Barn Kids and monogrammed crib sheets. It’s perfect, Instagram ready and all ready for your sweet little bundle to move in like the cherry atop the sundae. Which is great, as long as you like cherries who spit up all over your chenille receiving blankets and require a whole Target aisle’s worth of toiletry products – spoiler alert, they’re not all gonna fit in those PBK baskets, either. You realize fairly quickly that the room only looks perfect when the kid isn’t present.

But still. Standards, we have standards. No crystal of processed sugar shall pass those rosebud lips. All baby food is homemade and organic. You schedule playdates with other babies to improve social skills and start to research preschools. And it’s hard, for sure it’s hard, but you’re doing ok. Your baby is your entire focus and is walking and talking far ahead of what the books predict. You’re pretty much the best mother ever.

Nobody told you the parenting secret – this is all a One Child Concept.

It’s true. You swear your first child won’t watch TV until they’re four years old, while your third child’s first words are “Rubble on the Double!” and your house is a Disney-themed cyclone. Playdates have now achieved their highest form of consciousness – kids running everywhere while the moms complain about how tired they are and drink wine in solidarity. The delivery guy for Uber Eats knows your McDonald’s order by heart and your kids by first name. You haven’t slept fully through the night since your eldest was born. And it’s hard, for sure it’s way harder than you ever imagined – but you’re still doing mostly ok. They’re all still alive, which is saying something considering the sheer volume of food they all require to do so. The rest of it… Well, those ideas were One Child Concepts and you know better now. You smile at the twenty-something giving you side-eye as you haul a screaming Junior out of the store, because you know that look. She’ll learn.

The beautiful part of becoming the little old woman who lived in a shoe is that the amount of random crap to care about decreases as your child count increases. You don’t sweat the small stuff like showers or the occasional candy bar because you’re too busy keeping them from setting each other on fire. It’s not that you don’t care – you just don’t have the time to deal with it. There is a full time party in your house and at some point you learn how to prioritize.

Happy Saturday from my couch in my leggings. My children haven’t had dinner and my grand plan involves hot dogs. It’s t-minus 90 minutes to bedtime, people. May the odds be ever in your favor.