I have been on duty for every minute of that time, but I'm not a mathematician so I cannot calculate that number for you. What I can tell you, however, is that parenting is hard. And, very often, it's not even a little fun. There's a mountain of work required to call yourself a parent.
And not a single bit of it is done for an audience. Not a drop of it can be shown on a receipt.
It's sweaty soccer socks and dirty kid panties being washed at 4am because you found them thrown behind the dresser.
It's the hours and hours and days and days of doctors office waiting rooms holding a kid whose nose is basically glued to your shirt with more fluid than can be held in a McBiggie cup.
It's standing in the rain/blazing sun/whiteout blizzard with them while they splash in puddles or practice their new dives or speed headfirst down the backyard slopes.
And it's cleaning... Behind ears and under toilet seats, blowout diapers and projectile vomit, mashed peaches and urine soaked carpets. It's vacuuming suspicious things because you're afraid to touch them. It's changing sheets at 2am. It's bringing fresh clothes to the nurse's office.
It's quiet. It's listening to the same story again because they still giggle at the end. It's calming tears from an hour away because there's nothing else to be done. It's knowing your children, all of them, whether you understand their passions or not.
Parenting is regardless.
Of your needs.
Of your schedule.
Of your agenda.
Of you.
Parenting is a lot of work. Boring, mundane, no-accolade work. It's hard and it is, mostly, thankless. It's not done to impress or sway public opinion. So, if you're only going to put on an act for the audience, step to the left. Real parenting is done right.
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