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Keeping things cool during parenthood

Kids change you forever. Too often this is expressed through negative sentiment.

Kids change you forever. Too often this is expressed through negative sentiment. And do you know partly why?

Because some people lose their marbles and take on annoying habits that confirm the not completely unfounded fears of the non-breeder and the not-yet-ready-to-breed categories: that kids kill your independence and cut down your cool factor.

Remember how your mother taught you to think before you speak? That shouldn’t stop during parenthood. Here are some examples.

‘We’ are not pregnant. Last time I checked, the prospect of the human male becoming ‘with child’ remains impossible. Maybe ‘we’ got married and perhaps ‘we’ have a joint Facebook account, but despite all that ‘together forever’ stuff, I assure you, ‘we’ should remain individuals. You will thank yourself for this measure of independence someday.

‘We’ become parents. And a pat on the back to the men (mine included) who champion the cause during labour and delivery and all the aftermath that follows. But ‘we’ are not pregnant. Every time I hear this, I cringe.

There is a time and a place for labour stories. It’s generally not over beers with mixed coworkers, in passing with acquaintances or for the ears of those who have yet to experience it. I assure you that nothing was as horrifying when I was pregnant as hearing the unwarranted gory details of the experience from every woman I barely knew. Please nutshell the story and keep it PG unless you’re in an intimate setting with another or even a group who genuinely want to be in the know.

And 99 per cent of the time, dudes don’t want to know. They are just being polite if they ask at all. It doesn’t need to be acted out in a monologue. And this is coming from a woman whose closest circle of friends is mostly comprised of men.

There is a limit to referring to your child in terms of months, rather than years. I nearly threw a fit when last week I saw some Facebook cartoon, ‘Your child is not 42 months’. I’m not 367 months, I’m 30. I suggest you serve your baby the same justice generally somewhere between 1-2 years of age. Please stop saying your daughter is 26 or 32 months — she’s two or two and a half. Really.

If for nothing else, please consider those of us who struggle with doing the math. It’s too much work.

Relax. It’s not a competition. It’s hard enough to make friends for the sake of your children — all of a sudden, you’re reaching to find common ground among perfect strangers, so let’s not take this a step further by making others feel uncomfortable.

I know we live in a society obsessed with diagnosis and labels, but try to open your mind that all babies, toddlers, children take their own time.

Just because your friend’s little one isn’t walking and talking by one and half, doesn’t give you license to hand out medical pamphlets. Tread carefully here.

And please don’t do that annoying thing where you refer to the victories of cutting teeth and crawling in that inquiring tone of voice that sounds like you’re challenging the other parent to a duel.

We know you’re raising the next Sidney Crosby and we’re convinced your child is a budding genius. It’s amazing to discover these super human qualities in your 10 month old.

I will leave you to chew on these points and I welcome your letters sharing your own stories of being locked in close encounters with somebody with bad breath demanding to show you their C-section scars. I look forward to it.

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