Nobody Prepares You for Parenting
- Jun 16
- 4 min read
Nobody prepares you for parenting.
Not really.
You can read the books. You can follow the Instagram accounts. You can listen to the podcasts. But nobody quite tells you that one day you'll be trying to raise kind, resilient humans whilst simultaneously wondering how on earth you ended up here yourself.
Nobody tells you that you'll spend so much time worrying whether you're getting it right.
That you'll question your decisions.
That you'll laugh until you cry.
Sometimes all within the same hour.
Because parenting isn't just teaching your children.
It's growing up alongside them.
The Humbling Years
Children really do have a gift.
Not for music.
Not for sport.
Not even for sleeping through the night.
No.
Their true talent is humbling their parents at every possible opportunity.
Take my two-year-old.
For the last week, she's been enthusiastically informing absolutely anybody who will listen that:
"Mummy was stripping in the garden!"
Now, before the local Facebook group gets hold of this, let me explain.
I wasn't stripping in the garden.
I was strimming the grass.
Apparently, those two phrases sound identical when you're two years old.
Unfortunately, toddlers don't understand context. They also don't believe in discretion.
The lady in Tesco knows.
The grandparents know.
The poor woman behind me in the pharmacy queue knows.
People I've met exactly once know.
I spend a good portion of my day saying:
"No sweetheart, Mummy wasn't stripping..."
Which isn't a sentence I ever imagined needing to say.
At this point, I feel like I should get a T-shirt made that says:
I WASN'T STRIPPING. I WAS STRIMMING.
Raising Tiny Humans Is Absolutely Unhinged
And if the toddler wasn't doing enough for my public image, my nine-year-old has recently discovered a passion for comic book creation.
As a parent, this initially felt like a huge win.
Reading.
Writing.
Storytelling.
Creativity.
You know... all the things you're meant to encourage.
Until I found myself confiscating his latest masterpiece in the school playground before drop-off.
Why?
Because it featured what can only be described as:
A band of penises.
Not just one rogue penis.
An entire band.
With bottoms.
On every single page.
I have to admire the dedication.
There were recurring characters.
Plot development.
I think one of them may even have had a catchphrase.
The imagination? Exceptional.
The confidence? Through the roof.
The decision-making? Needs a little fine-tuning.
I genuinely didn't know whether to laugh, cry, or submit it to a publisher.
I can only assume this is the sort of thing nobody mentions at antenatal classes.
"Your child may one day create an anatomically themed graphic novel and attempt to take it into school."
I mean, at least they're reading and writing voluntarily.
You've got to take the wins where you can.
They're Always Watching
The thing is, underneath all of these ridiculous moments, I know my children are learning from me.
Which is slightly terrifying.
Because they're not just watching how I behave when life is easy.
They're watching how I handle the messy bits.
They're watching me build a business.
Watching me make mistakes.
Watching things not go to plan.
Watching me fail.
Watching me adapt.
Watching me keep going.
I am very honest with my children about the real world. Some people would probably say too honest.
I don't pretend adults have all the answers.
I don't pretend life is always fair.
They know businesses take hard work.
That money doesn't magically appear.
That sometimes people disappoint you.
That friendships take effort.
That relationships require patience.
That not everyone wins. (Actually this bit is a little porky, I tell them I always win, but mainly when they are trying to argue with me or avoid doing chores.)
Because I think that's important.
The Things Worth Having Take Time
I want them to understand that success isn't something that happens overnight.
It's built through resilience, determination and showing up even when you don't really feel like it.
And that doesn't just apply to careers or businesses.
It applies to friendships.
Relationships.
Marriage.
Family.
Being a good friend means listening.
Apologising when you've got it wrong.
Choosing people over your pride.
Trying again after disagreements.
The strongest relationships aren't effortless.
They're built.
I think in a world of highlight reels and instant gratification, that's a lesson worth teaching.
Learning Through Play
And perhaps that's one of the reasons I love roleplay so much.
Because children learn these lessons naturally through play.
When they use our Playtime Pioneers kits, they're not just "playing."
They're practising life.
The post office loses a parcel.
A café customer changes their order.
A doctor needs to reassure a nervous teddy.
The aeroplane has an unexpected diversion.
Children adapt.
Problem solve.
Communicate.
Negotiate.
Take turns.
Show empathy.
Build confidence.
Learn resilience.
And try again when things don't go to plan.
They're practising exactly the same skills they'll need throughout their lives.
Maybe roleplay isn't preparing children for a single moment.
Maybe it's preparing them for life.
A Little Favour
On a slightly more professional note, we're now accepting Google Reviews.
If you've purchased a Playtime Pioneers kit and your family has enjoyed them, I would be incredibly grateful if you could leave us a review.
Every review makes a huge difference to a small business and helps other families discover the magic of imaginative play.
And if you've trusted me enough to buy from me despite my children publicly accusing me of stripping in the garden and creating comic books featuring bands of penises...
Thank you.
I appreciate you more than you'll ever know.
Final Thoughts
Nobody prepares you for parenting.
For the embarrassment.
The pride.
The exhaustion.
The laughter.
The worry.
The moments that make you question everything.
And the moments that make you realise you'd do it all again in a heartbeat.
Maybe our children don't need perfect parents.
Maybe they just need parents who keep showing up.
Who laugh at themselves.
Who apologise when they're wrong.
Who work hard.
Who love fiercely.
And who teach them that life is messy, funny, exhausting and wonderful all at the same time.
And honestly?
I think that's enough.
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