The truth is, being a parent makes people who were at one time sane and balanced behave like weirdos. I’m sorry to my daughter when she learns to read — and at the risk that she might stumble across what her ridiculous mother wrote below, I am posting this anyway. Here are some of my confessions — some of my truths about being a mom:

*I bribe my child. Who doesn’t, right? (Right?) But not only do I bribe her, I have been known to default on promises. “Ok, let’s just get through dinner. If you finish your dinner, we’ll play ___________ / have dessert.” But you know what? Sometimes we just don’t have time to do what she wants to do, too. Mainly because it just took her so flipping long to get done what I bribed her to do in the first place. And so I break promises. And then I realize that her childhood is built on a foundation of lies.

*I have the best of intentions to do really cool projects with my daughter. We go to Michael’s together, pick out all of the supplies, prepare the workspace and then … well … let’s just be honest here: I’m a control freak and occasionally the dexterity of a four-year-old is just does not meet my expectations. Sometimes I’m grateful when her interest fades and I can complete the project solo. Hey, check out my cool seashell windchime! I know, I’m such a shitty mom.


*My husband and I refer to each other as “Mom” and “Dad” when hanging out as a family. “Hey Mom, where are CP’s shoes?” “Look upstairs, Dad!” But the lines blur when she’s not even involved in the conversation and we still refer to each other by those monikers. It feels sorta, I don’t know, creepy. Adios, romance.

*I like to foster independence and free thinking, self-expression and individualism, but truth be told, sometimes that cheap, banged up Sofia The First dress that’s never seen the inside of a washing machine and received too much wear love paired with those clearance Kmart sparkly shoes in public is a little embarrassing. I don’t normally go bananas trying to make her look like a Crew Cuts model or anything, but why is she always dying to wear the most jacked up outfits at the most inopportune times?

*I’m relatively sure that I’m more interested in completing toy collections than she is. “CP, do we have the Rapunzel clip-on dress doll? No? Are you sure? ARE YOU SURE?” Also: there’s something incredibly satisfying to me about having organized groupings of toys in plastic storage containers.

*I have NO IDEA what I am going to do with all of her stuffed animals as she grows up. She has accumulated so many over the years and I have pleaded with family to not buy any more. I’ll be the first to admit that it breaks my heart to think of parting with any one of them and I know how weird that is. Thanks a lot, Velveteen Rabbit. Shoot.

*Sometimes I look at my daughter as she bouncing around the house in just underwear and wonder how on earth it is that her abdomen looks like a rubber band and why mine looks like raw chicken. I mean, we pretty much eat the same things. She’s only 35 pounds, yet she has this amazing superpower of being able to burn hundreds of thousands of calories in the span of a half hour. Metabolism, you are a fickle bitch.

So there’s a glimpse at some of my parenting confessions, weird behaviors, and honest thoughts. Being a cool mom is just way too hard; instead, I offer you my truths.