“Being the DBP has forced me to encounter many horrors: Watching as my 4-year-old licked an airport bathroom floor while I was mid-stream (silver lining? She didn’t die),” writes Laura Onstot in this unspoken burden of parenthood. “Navigating the awkward moment when my daughter clogged the toilet at a friend's house and they didn’t have a plunger. Not a single one. Not wanting to embarrass my daughter, I took credit for the dump and sat awkwardly while the husband went to buy a plunger. The time my daughter locked herself into a stall and couldn’t figure out how to unlock the door. I considered smashing my face into the dirty grout to squeeze in. Thankfully, I had the brilliant idea to take a video from a different stall and pass my phone under so she could watch it. When I think about being DBP, I feel a significant amount of rage.” |