How were your weekends? Mine seemed to fly by in a flash of milk droplet trails dripped all across the floor, much like Hansel and Gretel's breadcrumbs (my little one's new favorite trick) and birthday parties so chock-full of kids that I worried I might get mowed down by a very determined two-year-old boy clutching a glittery My Little Pony.
I had a few "freak out"** moments on Saturday and Sunday that culminated in a somewhat panicked call to a friend, where I vented about everything from the fact that my child likes to grab the floor lamp and laugh hysterically, to my own struggles with all the chores, constant vigilance (to use Harry Potter terminology, which you should always do), and loss of sanity that comes with chasing after a one-year-old. She reassured me that a) first kids (and one-year-olds, especially) are hella hard b) I should ask for more help and not be ashamed of that and c) I should ask for more "me" time (to address the loss of sanity). The chores I'm stuck with, at least until Leo learns how to wash his own bottles and change his own diaper.
If there's one thing I've learned since having a kid, it's that there is no "standard," no roadmap, and definitely no "normal" for how parents divide up parenting duties. Every couple does things differently (a little or a lot), and so much of it depends on your own personal circumstances — careers, finances, priorities, etc — that it would be pointless to try to make any rules or generalizations about "what works." But my friend wisely reminded me that there's one rule of thumb that applies to everyone: If you need help, ask for it. That could mean a gajillion different things (a few extra hours of babysitting a week so you and your significant other can go on a date night to see Katy Perry, I mean the opera; switching off weekends where one of you gets up and the other sleeps in; carving out an hour a week for your Zumba or Pilates or belly-dancing class while your spouse or Grandma or the neighbor watches your little one, etc, etc, etc, etc.) Parenting is one of the hardest freaking jobs there is. Asking for help doesn't mean you're failing – it means you know what you need to succeed. Of course, that's easier said than done, for a ton of reasons like the guilt you feel when you leave your kid to go to the gym or the outrageous $20 an hour you're being charged by a teenage babysitter who "swears she doesn't smoke." Still, it's important. Do it. I'm going to.
PHOTO CAPTION: "I love straws, my Levi's, blue skies... but not this newfangled garbage can. How do I open it, dammit?"
**One of the freak outs definitely involved me yelling extremely loudly in a coffee/sandwich shop for no particular reason except that the sandwich-makers weren't moving at warp "mom" speed. Not my best moment.
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