When my youngest started kindergarten a few years back, I suddenly found myself in the spotlight. As a stay-at-home mom, my life sparked a lot of curiosity. Friends I hadn’t spoken to in ages were eager to know what I was planning to do with my newfound free time. Surely, they assumed I would pursue a medical degree, land a job, or dive headfirst into volunteering. But when I said, “I’m just going to focus on myself for a bit,” most were taken aback. Well, except for my husband, who enthusiastically chimed in, “Yes, darling! A little ‘me time’ means more romance!”
People seemed disinterested in my tales of donning my son’s knee pads to scrub the grout in our home (trust me, pee stains are no joke) or how dedicated I was to mastering headstands. I often questioned why my choices seemed to matter to them.
With all my kids in school, I had six hours a day, five days a week to myself (minus school breaks, holidays, sick days, and various appointments). Yet, if I chose to drop them off at daycare for a few hours to recharge, why was that anyone’s concern?
If I decide to breastfeed my four-year-old and newborn in public, that’s my choice. But if I were to breastfeed your child, suddenly it’s a different story. If I enjoy a glass of wine in front of my kid, that’s on me. However, if you spot me driving with a bottle of red while my kids are in the car, then it’s your business.
Let’s say I let my ten-year-old walk a half-mile to school; that’s not your business. If I irresponsibly leave my child (or pet) in a hot car while I run errands, then yes, it’s time to step in. If I allow my child to have soda on special occasions, that’s my call. If I invite your child over for a playdate and serve them a cheeseburger despite your vegan preferences, then you have every right to voice your concerns.
And while we’re at it, if I express frustration on social media, that’s my platform. But if I refer to your child in a less-than-flattering way, well, that’s a different conversation. If I choose to work nights as a performer to fund my kids’ college, it’s my decision. But if I invite your child to a show, that’s something we should discuss.
If I let my eight-year-old watch a PG-13 movie, that’s not your concern. But if I allow your daughter to binge-watch a horror series with me that gives her nightmares, now we have an issue. If I give my child the “birds and bees” talk at four because of a raunchy song they learned, that’s my parenting choice. If my child shares that song with yours, it’s your business.
As I approach 25, 36, or even 52 without having kids, that’s my life. But if I ever attempted to take your child away, now we have a serious problem. If my child eats food off the floor, it’s not a big deal. However, if they decide to shove your food down their pants, that’s a different story.
After 40 years of navigating life, I find that I’m much happier when I focus on my side of the fence. With two kids entering puberty and another mastering the art of spitballs at dinner, I can’t afford to take on any additional concerns.
For more insights on navigating the complexities of parenting, check out this post on intracervical insemination. And if you’re interested in at-home insemination options, consider visiting Make a Mom for quality syringe kits. Furthermore, the CDC offers a wealth of information on fertility and pregnancy.
In summary, parenting is a deeply personal journey, and what works for one family may not work for another. While it’s natural to be curious, let’s respect each other’s choices.
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