morning head: Monday, 29th June, 2015
Wait, no, it’s afternoon. Of course it is. There’ll be no writing in the morning. Not if you’re attempting to make any kind of schedule for yourself while you’re being a parent.
They don’t tell you this. Or maybe they do, but that knowledge is experiential, completely immune to transference. Naturally. The species would die the fuck out overnight if the realities of parenting could actually be related to the unwary, the hopeful procreators.
That’s not to say it’s not worth it, but the fact is: You. Have. No. Idea. What. You’re. Getting. Yourself. Into.
Which is true of all of it. The good and the not good. It’s not bad, it just ain’t good. Learning rarely is. [Insert banality about ease and things worth having here]. People love to throw these at you. “Enjoy the process.” “It’s not the destination, it’s the journey.”
If the journey is so great, why to we need a plethora of hackneyed little proverbs entreating us to enjoy it? Parts of it are great. Parts of it are not. Anyone with half an ounce of intelligence and a modicum of self-reflection will accept it all as part and parcel, but don’t try to tell me that spending 13 hours on a 43 seater bus with 72 other people, two of which are not-small children who are seated on your lap and have one of your earphones each, depriving you of the only succour available, should be enjoyed. Is it worth it to go to the wedding, to drink beer and dance to blistering high-life on the deck of a boat on Lake Volta? Of course. But it still ain’t good.
Somewhere or other in the last week or so, someone described parenting as the days flying by, but the moments dragging on and on and on and on. Truer words…
Time flies when you’re having fun, but Jesus does it drag when things are rough.
I wouldn’t exchange being at home with my son all day for the world. But some days, I’d give my right leg for 5 minutes alone.