Come one, come all

Advice may cause headaches.

Despite my doctor telling me I was too young, at twenty-one I became pregnant.

For nine months I was told by family, friends, neighbours, co-workers and the neighbour’s dog that I was too small, eating wrong, dressing inappropriately, sleeping the wrong way and walking too slow, too dangerously, too much wrong.

After the birth of my daughter – Shirley Temple with a Tazmanian Devil energy and inherited Italian stubbornness- I was told she was too small, too big, what to feed her, etc.

It baffled me why people would pick on both my hormone-crazy pregnant and post-natal selves. It felt like both poking the bear and kicking a puppy.

It soon came to my attention all parents faced such abuse. Be it their age, sex, race, religion, class or clique.

Tough skins must be worn, paired with a sharp tongue, in the realm of parenting. And as social creatures, we have a need to relate, vent, and laugh.

So is my blog: a collection of experiences since my 2007 pregnancy. All the hostility and well intention that refuses to wipe the mud off its feet before entering my parenthood threshold.

Brought on by my ironically named daughter: Patience.

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