My kids will eat what I eat (and other stupid shit I believed before I had kids)

A cautionary tale of rapidly descending standards.

Welcome to Pandora’s Box of Shit! Today’s article was inspired by Kate Brennan’s piece, How I Feel When Your Child Throws a Tantrum in Public. It got me thinking about what an absolute c*nt I was before I had kids. I hope you enjoy it.

When I discovered I was pregnant with my first baby, I thought: This is my chance. I’ll do everything “right”. After all, I’d already spent 32 years trying to be the perfect daughter, student, athlete and employee. Why would parenting be any different? 

This wasn’t a job interview or a marketing plan, after all. This was a HUMAN LIFE! So, I would take the whole thing VERY seriously and do EVERYTHING by the book.

As a result of me being the “perfect” parent, my kid would be the “perfect” child —input/output, simple. They would follow the routine: sleep when I wanted them to, eat when I wanted them to and WHAT I wanted them to.  

People would say, “Oh my! What a lovely, well-mannered child. They’ve been raised so well.” And I would beam with smug pride that I had hacked this parenting malarky. I wouldn’t be like those other parents whose babies didn’t sleep and cried all the time. Gross.

I even read the book Bringing Up Bébé: French Children Don’t Throw Food by Pamela Druckerman — an American journalist living in Paris. When her daughter was born, she observed that the French did things differently from their American, English and Australian counterparts. This superior French approach meant that babies apparently slept through the night from two months old, never threw tantrums and ate what their parents ate — in RESTAURANTS.

Let me preface this by saying I was an only child with no younger cousins. I simply didn’t grow up around younger kids. I would watch flustered parents trying desperately to reason with their screaming, red-faced, sticky-fingered offspring at the supermarket checkout and think: Oh my god — I would NEVER. 

All of this is to say I had parenting totally figured out.

Boy, was I a FUCKING IDIOT. 

And when my twins came along exactly two years after my first, well, you can imagine. 

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1. My baby will sleep through the night from 2 months of age  

Hahahaha. Why not start with a REALLY FUCKING stupid one? 

Before kids: 

I won’t be one of those tired, strung-out parents with bags under their eyes. I have the sleep book that sets out a minute-by-minute schedule for your baby to ensure everything runs like clockwork. I’ll be getting my eight solid hours of sleep in no time! Parents whose babies don’t sleep through the night mustn’t be following the advice in the book. That’s their bad. 

After kids: 

Why isn’t my baby following the routine in the book!? I’ve forced him to feed and sleep as the book dictates, but he’s not adhering to the schedule! Is there something wrong with my baby?! I think he’s broken. Can I return him? 

Ohhhhhh I see. My baby doesn’t give a shit about the book. He’s marching to the beat of his own needs. Sure, I will be a lot happier when his circadian rhythm kicks in, and he figures out the difference between day and night, but for now, it looks like I’m at the mercy of a tiny sleep dictator. Well played, bébé. You are not French at all.

2. My kids will wear cloth nappies 

Honestly, I’m making myself LOL with this one. 

Before kids:

I’ll be an environmentally conscious parent. Disposable nappies are so bad for the planet. My mum had me in cloth nappies, and I’ll do the same. It’ll be easy.

After kids: 

I have three kids in nappies, I haven’t slept for 17 days, my nipples are bleeding, my face is exploding with postpartum acne and my mental health is hanging by a very thin thread. 

BY GOD, I HAVE TO PICK MY BATTLES, AND AN ENORMOUS PILE OF SOILED CLOTH NAPPIES IS NOT THE HILL I WILL DIE ON. 

Do I feel bad? Yes. Do I wish it were different? Yes. Can I do fuck all about it right now? No. 

3. I won’t co-sleep with my kids 

Forget co-sleep. ANY sleep will do. 

Before kids:

I will never co-sleep with my kids. I need my space. It would be too disruptive and set bad habits. They will only ever sleep in their own beds. 

After kids:

JESUS, MARY, MOTHER OF JOSEPH, just let me sleep. The kids, the dog, the cats, the husband. It’s a fucking free for all! It’s fine though. I’ll just contort my body to fit in this tiny remaining space. Need to feed (the babies, not the husband or the dog, of course)? FINE, just latch on while I pass out. I’ve given up on ever feeling comfortable again now anyway. 

4. My kids will fit in with my routine 

Oh, how the mighty did fall. 

Before kids: 

A trip to the shops? No problem! A meal out with friends? Easy! A day at the beach? So fun! My life will basically carry on as it did before because my bébé will easily slot into my plans. It’s not like they’ll have very specific needs or anything. If you have kids and suddenly stay home all the time, I feel bad for you. Just do better! 

After kids: 

I don’t have a life now. I tried to go to shop but it’s two minutes after the baby’s allotted sleep time and everything is fucked! We have to get home immediately so he can sleep in his room in his cot with blacked-out windows, the white noise machine playing and the air temperature at an even 21°C because he WILL NOT sleep in the pram.

Do you know what will happen if he misses this sleep? He will be SO TIRED, then fall asleep before his usual bedtime tonight, which means he will wake up early tomorrow, which means he will be overtired before his morning nap, and this VICIOUS CYCLE OF HELL WILL CONTINUE UNTIL I DIE. 

5. My kids will eat what I eat 

Sorry, I choked on my kale.

Before kids: 

There’s NO WAY I will make separate meals for my kids. They will eat what we eat. And when we go out (because going to restaurants on the regular would still very much be a part of our lives), they will eat from the adult menu. Kids’ menus are full of nuggets, chips and other disgusting and unhealthy options that will never cross my children’s lips. These are for lazy people who don’t care about their kids’ nutrition. 

After kids: 

Oh, so you don’t like this slow cooked curry with hidden veggies that I spent hours preparing? What’s that? You’d rather eat crayons, Play-Doh with weird hairs in it and dog biscuits off the floor instead? I tell you what — how about I chuck some chips and nuggets in the oven? Surely that’s preferable to actual garbage and dirt.

And eating out? Sure, I’ll spend $40 on a main course for my toddler, who’ll push it around the plate and then throw it on the floor. NO, THAT’S INSANE! I will order the kids' pizza, spaghetti or chips because they are cheaper, and I know my kids will eat them. And then we’ll follow it up with a bowl of ice cream because it means I can enjoy my meal in peace for five more minutes before the screaming starts. 

6. I’ll travel with my kids 

Only with a nanny and a first-class ticket, thankyouverymuch. 

Before kids:

I love to travel and I won’t give this up when the baby arrives. The baby will be part of our adventures! We’ll be one of those really bohemian travelling families. 

After kids:

Wait. You mean to tell me that I’ll need to bring 2,000 nappies, 16 bottles, 17 packs of wet wipes, 200 pouches of pureed baby food, 45 changes of clothes, a 2kg box of first aid supplies aaaaaand I need to adjust my baby’s finely calibrated sleep routine to a new timezone? I’ll stay home in my stretchy pants, thanks. India can wait. 

7. I will never raise my voice 

Very demure, very mindful. 

Before kids: 

I won’t need to raise my voice because my kids will listen to everything I say. My parenting will be so perfect that I’ll just need to shoot them a look or do some sign language I taught them. 

After kids:

Sure, I start the day with my calm voice. But after politely asking my children to stop drawing on the walls, fighting with each other, throwing toys at the TV, eating food off the floor, ripping up a brand new book and screaming at the top of their lungs, I RAISE MY VOICE. Then I feel guilty. It’s a glorious cycle. 

8. I will always follow through on my threats 

Like fuck I will. 

Before kids: 

I see where other parents go wrong. They talk about the consequences of bad behaviour, but they never follow through. I will ALWAYS follow through so my kids know I’m completely serious and will never defy me. 

After kids: 

Jesus wept. I’m so exhausted from the millions of micro-decisions and micro-aggressions I’m dealing with on a daily basis. I can’t even remember the last threat I made. No TV? That will be more a punishment for me than for them. No dessert? No Santa? No, wait, it’s February. No fucking idea. Is it bedtime yet? 

9. My children will never throw tantrums 

I pity the fool (who believes this).  

Before kids:

Oh my god, tantrums are a kiddy crime of the highest order. Because of my perfect parenting, my kids will NEVER have public meltdowns. And if they do, I’ll know the exact best way to handle it so they immediately calm down, comply and fall into my arms for comfort. 

After kids: 

Please, god, SEND HELP. These kids don’t listen. They are feral beasts with “Big Emotions”, but my emotions are EVEN BIGGER! No amount of gentle reasoning or desperate pleading makes a blind bit of difference.

My only recourse in the case of a code-red tantrum is to get the hell outta there! But trying to secure them in their pram while they buck their hips, pull my hair and claw at me with their scratchy little nails is like something from The Exorcist. Meanwhile, one of the other kids has probably bolted off straight onto a busy road. 

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When the bar drops below sea level

Let’s just say that becoming a parent has been one of the most humbling experiences of my life. Not only can I not be “perfect” at it, but I might not even be very good.   

Before kids, I was missing a very important part of the equation: the correlation between utter exhaustion and standards. The more tired I became, the lower the bar dipped. Eventually, I was so overwhelmed, frustrated and worn out that I couldn’t even see the bar because it was actually buried on the sea floor at the bottom of the Mariana Trench. 

Some days when they were very young, my bar was simply: are they safe and fed? I won’t even add clean to that list because keeping three of them clean was an exercise in futility. And that honestly had to be enough sometimes — to hell with sensory play and finger painting! Having food licked off your face by a dog counts as sensory play anyway, right? Asking for a friend.

I read a quote recently from a commenter here on Substack that said:

“Just when you think: My kid would never — here comes your kid nevering like they’ve never nevered before.”

And god, I feel that. From eating junk food to dropping swear words (they’re not toddlers anymore!) and asking one of the other school mums, “Are you a grandma? You look so old!”, my kids are a constant source of nevers. 

And as for the French and their bébés? I read a review of that book many years later that said, “If the French are so good at raising children, why are so many French adults arseholes?” 

And I wondered…

Then I came to the realisation that someone has become much less of an arsehole since having kids. Me.

P.S. Sorry if you’re French, I’m sure you’re lovely! Don’t unsubscribe because of this one silly comment made by someone else and not me.

Now your turn..

What are your “nevers”? I want to hear about all your parenting failures, embarrassments and humiliations. Let’s lay ‘em all bare in the comments!

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Thanks for opening up my box of shit this week! Substack has given me an excuse to start writing and flexing my funny bone again. Your hearts, comments and shares mean the world to me, thank you!