So What Does That Make Me?

I love (and when I say "love," I mean LOVE) Pinterest. I'm on it all the time. I especially like the random pictures and quotes in the "Humor" section that sometimes just make my day.

Until I come across things like this lovely blog post. Go ahead and read it (it's short). I'll wait.

I see this type of thing a lot. I see things like, "You're not a real parent until you've swatted blindly in the backseat hoping to connect with a kid." Or "You're not a real parent until you've flipped your child off behind his back at least once." (Seriously. Think about what flipping someone off really means and decide whether that's the type of attitude you should have toward your own children.) There's even a popular Buzzfeed list going around called "27 Reasons Why Kids Are Actually The Worst."

Laughing yet?

I don't think these types of posts are funny. Mostly because I think kids are great. And if you can't handle being responsible for a human, you should have gotten your tubes tied. But I also hate these posts because I've never swatted at anyone in the backseat. I've never had a toddler wake me up with a foot in my face. My house is littered in dog toys and junk mail, but no Legos.

Does this mean I'm not a "real" parent? Do I not get to be in your little club just because my daughter is no longer with us?

I had a wonderfully funny (and heartwarming) conversation with my husband last night as we were discussing dinner plans. I asked him what he wanted to go with the chicken and he picked Kraft Mac & Cheese (rather than the homemade alfredo sauce I had offered), so I was teasing him by saying that it was ridiculous that he would want a pre-made mix rather than the homemade stuff.

Me: We're 30 years old and I have time to cook! There's no excuse for eating like a three-year-old! We don't even have kids.

D: Yes, we do. We have a kid.

Me: (smiling so hard on the inside, because yes. Yes, we do.) Yeah, but she doesn't eat. She's a very easy child to take care of.

Of course my husband gets it. That we DO have a kid and we ARE parents. And of course my friends and family are amazing enough to still count me as a mom. But the rest of the world either discounts my 7 months and 4 days with my daughter (because I count my pregnancy, of course) or simply forgets that I exist. So I say it's about time we clarify the definition of "parent."

Isn't this better?

The Parent Club is already exclusive enough. (Just ask the millions of women struggling with infertility.) Do we have to leave out actual mothers, too? 

Which brings to mind another good point: consider (if you are one of those parents who is lucky enough to still have living children) how you talk about your kids. Think about the Facebook posts you make about them, or the ecards you pin about them, or the comments you make about them to other people. Does your attitude show love and appreciation? Or whiny aggravation? If your kids heard every word you said about them, how would they feel?

I understand that parenting is hard. Don't think that I'm telling you that you need to wake up every day with a Disney smile on your face and sing the pancake song as you cover your kids in flowers and glitter. I know that raising kids is hard work and that you will definitely need breaks from them to have some adult time. (I have a 4-year-old nephew. I don't need to have my own kids to know that they wipe you out.)

But parenting is also a privilege; one that some people--no matter how badly they wanted it--just aren't blessed with for some reason. And you're doing parenting (and angel moms) a disservice by not being grateful for that privilege. We angel moms (and infertile pre-moms) know how easily everything can be taken away. We are "real" parents; and I like to hope that all this pain is working toward making us better parents.