By Amanda Elder of Stay-at-Home Panda

I see my mom with her fingers busy at the keyboard while I toddle around trying to figure out how everything works in this fascinating world. She half looks up at me as I smash my fingers in a drawer and says, “Ouch! You okay?” Although she’s feigning empathy, she’s busy writing about her own woes. She literally makes a job out of telling everyone how hard I make life. Does she think I’m constantly needing and demanding because it’s fun? No. My life is a struggle, and it’s appallingly under-recognized.

I had my first birthday last month, and although I’m pretty good at using my legs for walking and running, it’s still tough. You grown ups take it for granted that you move about without falling. When you do, you are usually intoxicated or trying to have more fun than your age allows. For me? I’m stone-cold-sober and wipe out constantly. I’ve been awake for two hours so far today, and have had the ground taken out from under me ten times. Sometimes I land on my butt, which is kind of what it’s made for. But other times, like when I see my brother’s knight sword is unattended and I head to it fast, I get tripped up and come way too close to eating grass. I only enjoy grass-eating on my own terms.

Speaking of eating on my own terms… how would you like someone to shove food up to your mouth when you clearly don’t want it? I know I don’t use many words, but when my mom brings a spoonful of yogurt up to my lips and I turn my head back and forth, it means I’m not interested. I thought the shaking of a head is the universal sign for “no.” No means no, okay? I know what my mom’s thinking when she does this: “If you just get a little taste you might discover you like it.” Maybe this is true, but her pushiness puts a bad taste in my mouth, literally and figuratively. When I want a bite, you’ll know it. In the meantime, get out of my face, please.

You know what else sucks about being a baby? Getting your dreams constantly crushed. All I want in life is to grab hold of that brush that sits behind the toilet and off to the side. It has a long handle and a perfect little holder. I want to see it, hold it, feel it. I wonder all it is capable of and what it tastes like. But my mother. She’s always in the way. I reach for it, and she says, “No! Yucky! Poo-poo!” How rude. I don’t tell her her dreams are poo-poo. She denies me the wand while taking it into her own hands and swirling it around the toilet bowl, making bubbles appear. If she’s trying to show me this isn’t a fun toy, she’s going about it all wrong.

That same woman acts like I am the one constantly violating personal space. Sure, I tweak her nipples and put my fingers up her nose, but she’s equally offensive. Nothing is better than scoring a Cheerio under the couch. I pop it in my mouth like I just won $5 from a scratch-off. When she sees my joyful chewing, she comes at me hard and fast, saying, “What’s in your mouth? Let me see.” Then she takes her dirty dish-soapy finger and uses it as a hook to swipe my winnings right out. When she discovers it’s a Cheerio, she’s like, “Oh okay, it’s just a Cheerio. You can have it.” But when she violates me, I lose my appetite.

I hear my mama challenge Daddy to a game of rock-paper-scissors to see who will change my dirty diaper. This is after she makes an unflattering face and tells me I stink. I get the vibe she doesn’t love the job. I know she thinks I’m being a pain by squirming around and “not cooperating,” but I don’t know what’s worse — sitting in my poo while she gets the motivation (and supplies) to change me or being touched in my most sensitive places with cold-ass wipes. I don’t have the kind of mom who believes in wipe warmers. She’s really amazing and sweet, but kind of cold-hearted, too.

All you parents out there who want to constantly talk about how hard to is to be a parent, stop for a second and consider how tough it is to be a baby. This is coming from one who is past the phase of puking after every meal. Just try walking a mile in my shoes. I try to walk in yours all the time.

This post was originally published on Stay-at-Home Panda.

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About Amanda Elder

Amanda is a teacher turned stay-at-home mom in Orlando, FL. When she’s not playing with trains or doing dishes, she is writing about it. Find her at Stay-at-Home Panda.