Our kids read 79 books, 44 blogs, listened to 67 podcasts and bookmarked 1200 websites about infants, but nothing prepared them for no sleep and hormones that bounce around like silly putty.
When we were young moms suffering from baby blues many of our husbands left the house before the baby got up and got home after the baby was asleep, but they were still able to offer an understanding ear and make helpful suggestions like, “Suck it up. You wanted to be a mother, didn’t you?”
Husbands today are more in tune with their wives feelings, thanks to you and I who raised perfect sons. We also secretly prepped them to pick us to live with and not their father if it came to that, but that’s a story for another day.
In the 70’s and ’80’s, nobody, not even Dr. Spock, recognized baby blues to be a bona fide medical condition. The world was a different place where the husbands were pitied for having to come home to a shrew and for his shrew not being enthusiastic about “getting back in the saddle,” and/or resuming his regularly scheduled blow jobs.
We suffered, not in silence, but suffered nonetheless, until our explosive natures at last convinced the psychiatric community to officially declare postpartum depression a legitimate psychological and physical malady that can and does cause new moms to develop allergic reactions to their babies which often doesn’t subside until the baby’s 23rd birthday or sooner if the kid has a job and his own apartment.
Grandmas never develop allergies to their grandchildren. Some may argue that by the time we become grandparents we are way past PMS and even menopause is in our rear view mirror. Fine, be that way, but my explanation for our positive responses to our grandkids are confirmed by dozens of scientific journals. (Titles unavailable due to… Covid) These journals clearly state that the reason we’re not allergic to our grandchildren is because they don’t live with us. Extended visits with them support this.