I’m a recovering Catholic, so this Confession thing is… well, a bit rusty. I have really been enjoying reading all these confessions because I can relate to most, if not all of them, and I think you do too. Which is why I don’t feel the
Mommy Guilt need to state the disclaimer about loving my kids more than life itself (even when I want to sell them)…
1. This isn’t really a confession, just a fact, but most days I have no fucking clue what I am doing as a parent and am flying by the seat of my pants.
2. I have a terrible potty mouth (see #1 for example). I try not to swear in front of the kids, but most days it’s like trying to hold in a fart… sometimes it just squeaks out.
3. I yell way too much. It doesn’t really get me anywhere, but dammit, sometimes it actually feels good to get it off your chest. Most of the time I try the nice, positive-reinforcement route, but then my children do something asinine, like pretend that yogurt is lotion and rub it all over their bodies, and I lose my shit. Actually, now that I write this out that is pretty damn funny and what the hell is the big deal?!?
4. Which leads me to this: I have a hard time letting go and finding the fun in everyday. When the kids are laughing at each other at the table like it’s Amateur Night at the Apollo instead of eating, I tend to do #3 instead of realizing how absolutely cute it is that my kids who are 4 ½ years apart can find joy and laughter in each other. My job is to turn them into wonderful adults, and I have to learn to let go and realize that being silly and fun should be a part of that.
5. Oh, remember all that Holiday Cards talk? Yeah, the printer broke so we couldn’t make labels and frankly, I did not have the time or patience to hand-write the addresses, so they didn’t go out. If you want one, I’ll email it to you.
6. Speaking of the interwebs, my children s’ lives are mostly chronicled on Facebook and this blog. Nary a baby book, photo-book, or scrapbook in sight. I often wonder what they will think of this in 20 years.
7. I HATE cleaning and only do so begrudgingly when I am expecting company. Same goes for laundry.
8. Besides the laugh track at my dinner table there is the damn button on my chair that I press when I sit down to eat that triggers my daughter’s need to “go potty.” Every.Friggen.Night. I guess it is better than when my son used to run circles around the table when he had to poop.
9. I really do not enjoy playtime with my kids. Sitting on the floor watching someone do a puzzle (it’s a fucking circle! There’s no way to flip it around to make it fit better!) is excruciating. Besides, they are quiet and I can use the time to sneak to the bathroom to pee in peace!
10. Not a real parenting confession, but there may have been a few occasions where the dog ate cat food because I forgot to pick up more at the store. He seems fine.
11. When my kids are particularly mouthy, I just have to walk away… and make faces and flip them off when they aren’t looking.
12. I often look forward to the kid’s bedtime. I’m starting to think this is a confession we all have!
13. Sometimes I am out late for meetings. If by some chance I get done anywhere close to bedtime I stay out until I know the kids will be asleep. If I go home smack in the middle of the bedtime routine I know it will be another 30 minutes of back scratching, water getting, and umpteenth story-reading. I have a few more levels of Angry Birds to keep me busy until it is safe to return.
14. I did not really enjoy my second pregnancy, so, to have a bit of fun, after the 400th (well-meaning) stranger asked me when I was due, I looked them straight in the eye with a scowl and said, “I’m not pregnant…” and watched her stammer and back pedal.
15. I tend to be a fatalist when it comes to my kids. Not about colds, and sniffles, but behavior. Sulking mood= mood disorder, temper tantrum= future serial killer. etc.
16. I showed my kids the “Gangnam Style” video because I thought it would be cute if they started doing that horse-dance. However, my daughter’s favorite part is where all the girls are on all fours, gyrating their booty’s. Great, I’m raising a future stripper (see #15).