This Mom thing is a lot tougher than I thought it would be.
I love my children more than anything and no matter what each day brings, that will never change but why are we so afraid to admit that, “Today, I just don’t want to be a parent?”
Sometimes I feel like I have to keep my true feelings in the closet locked up for no one ever to know. It’s okay to express how you feel in your relationship, at work, about a friend, or an enemy, with your own life but to make any mention about how you really feel about your kids is for some reason a clasp-my-pearls kind of moment.
A few weeks ago I had a conversation with one of my girlfriends and she said what I’d been afraid to. She has three kids, loves them dearly and is an amazing Mother but could not only relate to my daily feelings of frustration, she also spoke the truth about how we as parents feel.
“Society says we have to always like our kids but that’s not how it really is. Sometimes we don’t want to have anything to do with them.”
On the days we feel like this, no, we don’t just walk out and let our children fend for themselves, that’s not cool, but we shouldn’t feel like horrible people for having normal, human thoughts and feelings.
It could be because our children are a reflection of us. Little mini me’s and mini you’s showing us our flaws front and center. Only, the flaws seem really bad when coming from a little person.
My son has a personality like mine. Talks too much, quick-tongued, smart aleck, a goofball, tons of energy. It’s charming at times. Other times it’s as enjoyable as hearing someone break Styrofoam into little pieces.
My daughter is just under a year and hasn’t started talking yet so she’s still cute. But she’s finding her I’ll-scream-and-cry-if-I-don’t-get-my-way and I’m-not-going-to-listen-and-then-find-it-funny. And she’s getting more and more fussy by the day. Is that like me too? Oh gosh.
I always tell my husband that when I’m taking care of just one of our children at a time I’m fine but as soon as it is both of them, I feel as if I’m seconds from falling off the edge, cliff diving with no net, onto pointy rocks. I’m not sure how anyone has more than two kids and stays sane. God bless them.
There’s a cutoff time in each day. My cutoff is when my mind, body, soul and spirit says, “I’ve had e-dammit-nough.” It’s usually around 7:28 p.m. Yep. Seven twenty-eight.
It’s at that time when I change from slightly calm and steady to I may punch a hole in the couch any second.
If only kids could be aware of the clock and the “cutoff time.”
“Ooh, its 7:20. In about eight minutes Mommie is going to go batshit crazy. We better calm down, get quiet, kiss her goodnight softly then slowly walk away.”
I’ve even told my son, numerous times, “When I say I need a break, I suggest you give it to me. Take my advice. When people tell you what they need, listen.” He sweetly says, looking up at me with his perfect eyes, “Okay Mommie.” Then a few hot seconds later, he’s spinning, twirling, whirling and James Brown slidin’ from wall to wall. And my daughter is screaming at the top of her 10-month old lungs and giggling at his antics, which only makes him perform harder, louder, faster. Awesome.
It feels good to be honest. If only I could be this honest with my son’s schoolkid Moms. Those Moms seem so perfect like they never yell or scream or lose their cool. Like they are always smiling and singing happy lullabies in their heads, and their houses smell like daisies.
I asked my Dad if he remembers when my brothers and I became annoying as kids and how long it lasted, hoping he’d tell me this is just a phase and soon I’ll have order in my home and peace daily with my kids. “Well, I don’t remember when it started but you guys have been annoying…hmm…let’s see… you are 41, Marlin is 45 and Frank is 47. Yeah, it never stops.”
I told my Mom about this conversation and she didn’t deny a thing. She simply chuckled a devious lil’ chuckle.
Thanks Dad and Mom. Good talk.