In what is proving to be my best week as a writer since (I kid you not) 2008, I placed an essay with The Atlantic Online on Tuesday, guest-posted at the Foreign Policy Association yesterday, and submitted something to The Hairpin at the start of the week — and they ran it today!
(And the thing in The Hairpin isn’t even depressing!) (I know!)
I love The Hairpin so, so much, that this really is a squeeeeee moment for me, and so I share that squee with you, here. Squeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
The Books Aren’t Helping
My own children are already 8 and 12 years old, but it is a truth universally acknowledged that children in possession of a surprising number of years were once, to a child, babies. Indeed, as The Hairpin’s very own Nicole Cliffe is about to discover, the baby phase — for which childbirth classes, pregnancy manuals, and complete strangers in the line at Whole Foods are more than happy to prep you — is stunningly brief in duration. It’s the whole “childhood” part that no one thinks to give you a heads up on.
Everyone and his/her mother and/or father jokes about the baby exhaustion. Nominally, at least, parents-to-be are prepared for that. If Nicole has read any of the books, she’s also nominally prepared for endless laundry, the possibility of projectile vomit, and the fact that many new moms seem to cry rather a lot. Within the first three months, she and her childbirth-class-disrupting man will be experts on all this and a great deal more.
But there’s all kinds of stuff that comes up a station or two down the pike that no one ever mentions as they get all dewy eyed over your swelling belly. And so, as a loyal reader of The Hairpin and a great admirer of Ms. Cliffe’s work, I decided to take it upon myself to render unto her a hearty and entirely unasked-for “heads up!”
But where to start?
*Drums fingers on desk*…
To read the rest, please click here! (Squee!)