Several of my friends and acqaintences have recently had babies. I love hearing about their trials and tribulations... three a.m. feedings, projectile vomiting, the mixing up of days and nights. Good times. These new parents have it made, there is so much information out nowdays about raising kids, it should be a breeze for them.
Now in my day... jeez, someone drag over the rocking chair, I'm turning into my grandmother and I'm not even 50!... We were the last generation to give birth sans epidurals (or most other medication for that matter). We didn't need no stinking pain killers, we invented feminism, and doggone it, we were tough. One minute we were in crazy, mind blowing pain, the next we were waving good-bye to the nurses, our newborn child and donut pillow in hand. We didn't have a library of books on how not raise serial killers or social misfits, we had theories, usually delivered from mother to mother at the grocery store or playground. No internet, but we did have Sesame Street.
I did a lot of stuff wrong, as did my parents, which helped me to develop my philosophy on my responsibility toward parenthood: My job was to do it better than my parents. Since I kept my kids, I succeeded. Which is not to say I had some tragic, neglected childhood, I didn't, I was raised by an older sister and brother-in-law while my mother went about trying to find herself. I was happy, mother was as happy as she could be, I won't speak for my sister who seemed to get the short end of that stick. Despite all the stuff I did wrong, I have five great kids. I can't wait to see what kind of kids perfect parenting produces.