You Chose to Have a Child How Dare You Complain about Parenting?!
10 responses to the above. WARNING: This post is satirical.
Dear Noname-username,
You left a comment on a post I shared on another platform. The post was set to the viral sound of “that was rude, do de do, that was pretty fucking, rude!” the text across the screen read:
When your migrainey/neurodivergent brain can't cope with strong smells and your gag reflex is weak, but your preschooler still waits until they get home from preschool to take a massive shit.
For context, I'll add that in the caption I said “Obvs I know he needs to go when he needs to go, don’t at me!” One could argue this is what's known as a ‘joke’ or ‘satire’.
And I'll state, for the record Your Honour, that this was created in jest, but do you know what?
It is annoying when I'm overstimulated or in the prodrome phase of a migraine attack and one of my kids defecates in my tiny house, during a 30 degree heatwave, and doesn't flush the toilet. Sometimes they forget, and other times they just don’t. Usually this isn't a show of laziness but more that they're keen to get back to whatever interesting thing it was they were doing before the need to relieve themselves took over. Or that they're not in the mood for the sound of the flush.
Anyhow, it was the comment—which read: YOU CHOSE TO HAVE A CHILD—written in caps, that prompted my wish to respond, and ergo this post.
I could ask you to elaborate on what point you meant to get across in your statement, but I have a feeling we’d struggle to come to an agreement on whether or not one of my children shitting is in fact, my choice.
Yes, I chose to have children, therefore making myself primary care-giver and wiper of arses. Again, I'm not sure what point you were trying to make, but if I had to hazard a guess it would be along the lines of “you chose to have children so don't complain.”
Just for fun, and because I have nothing more interesting to write about, I've decided I have a few points to make in response.
There is only so much of parenting one can ‘choose’ before it is thrust upon them, quite literally, in a tidal wave of sewage. Sometimes it requires one to dig around in the shit to find the bits they love. I think of it as beachcombing but without the beach and usually with more rewarding finds than broken clam shells and old plastic.
For us mothers, those bits of treasure are in the shape of rosy cheeks and open mouthed smiles. They're in the beauty of our children's sleeping faces, and the warmth of pudgy hands in our own. The choice to have children is in the desire for sunny days at the park and family barbeques. Cold winters and hot cocoa, perhaps even a matching pair of pjs. But I can assure you, such choices are rarely in excitement to wipe dirty bums, clean snot from stuffy noses or mop ferevish brows.
I used to write a lot more about how much my children irritated me. I did it as a way to relieve stress and prompt open conversations with other mums. After several hundred comments like yours, I started to feel bad. Bad for the person who is perhaps struggling with a fertility journey, for them to be seeing my content and feeling triggered by it in some way. Bad for my kids, who may one day read my words and it impact them, not as intended. Bad for those with differing views to my own. In the end, I stopped sharing so much, but it cost me to do so.
I’ve always wondered why I wasn't the kind of mum that could remain upbeat through every challenge. The kind of mum who shares the best bits of parenting, with unwavering belief said best bits are able to negate every intrusive thought, panicked feeling, and sleepless night, forevermore.
You see, I didn't ease into parenting, despite my ‘choice’ to have children. My brain and sex hormones have a long-standing beef, dating back to my own childhood. This beef turned into a war I couldnt stop. One which I had no control over.
It was not of my choosing to develop maternal mental illness when carrying both of my children. Illness that would plague me long after each of their births.
I don't know if you're a parent. If you chose to have children or not, or if that choice wasn't made from your own choosing. It's difficult to say this next part without knowing your situation, but until you are a parent, (in whichever form that comes to you) it's likely you won’t ever fully fathom the buttons your children will press. Buttons you didnt even know existed. And for varying reasons, ones which you may never understand, they'll keep their fingers on the buzzers. Ever heard the saying “everybody is a perfect parent until they become one” ?
Children are a choice, and I believe they should be cherished. I also firmly believe they should feel safe to speak of the things which might overwhelm or upset them. Maybe this equates loud noises, too much screen time, skinning their elbows when falling from their scooter. Children should also be able to freely express, without reproach, when a parent does something that mildly irritates, this couldn't be as simple as: a parent taking a shit when they're about to get in to use the bathroom! Kids should be able to tell us all of the things that piss them off, but in doing so they might also hear about when we’re pissed off. Letting your frustration slip out on occasion, is a hazard of the job title I'm afraid.
I personally feel humour to be a pillar for parents to lean on. I believe a parent’s annoyance, anger, guilt, stress, or sadness should be able to be expressed freely too. And sometimes it's good to do this in a humourous way. Let us relax back against the pillar, of which we built with our bare hands, on calloused knees, while screaming. We deserve to lean against the solidity of it without fear of judgement. For some of us, this is the only way in which we are able to get through the days.
There are many counter arguments and even more advice columns, giving ‘lessons’ on how parents can do better. But you don't have to be a parent to make big (or small) choices. So, if I may return the sentiment in which your comment landed, I’ll finish by saying this: YOU CHOSE TO LEAVE A COMMENT (THAT HAD NO PURPOSE) ON MY POST, AND SO, I AM FREE TO USE IT AS A WRITING PROMPT.
Have a great day. Oh, and if your kids are winding you up like a cuckoo clock, don't be afraid to write something funny to share online, you might get lucky and piss off a stranger in the process.