Not much surprises my husband, especially in the parenting department. After all, he’s the man who was born to be a father and still married his high school sweetheart (that would be me) after she said repeatedly she wasn’t even sure she wanted kids. He knew from the start that I’m not really into other people’s kids (and by not really, I mean I am really not a fan of other people’s kids) and that I worried I might not even like my own kids. He knew it, and he still married me. He wasn’t surprised when he asked repeatedly over the course of our first few years of marriage if I was ready to have kids and I said no. He didn’t get angry or mad or seem surprised. He also wasn’t surprised when he brought it up again in Hawaii on vacation and I said no, then yes, and was pregnant a month later. He wasn’t surprised when I told him I was done with one. He wasn’t surprised when I decided two would be a good idea. He wasn’t even surprised when I told him I was ready for a third. The only thing that surprised him was when the Ultrasound Tech told us at 18 weeks that our third was our third and fourth (in all fairness, everyone but my mother and my best friend were surprised about that one).
Nothing surprises my husband. But sometimes, I break down my innermost mommy confessions when the kids are asleep and it’s just the two of us, a bottle of wine and a little over a month to go before season four of Scandal hits Netflix. Some of my mommy confessions are not surprising to him, but some shock him to the core. If you’re a mother, you probably get it. If you’re not, you’ll probably find these horrible.
I Hate When People Tell me They don’t Know how I do It
I just do, okay? I have four kids. They’re 7 (this month), 4 and I have 15-month-old twins. I just do it. I hate when people tell me they don’t know how I do it and then stand there in awe. My husband always thought I loved that people look up to me and admire me, but I don’t. I don’t because I feel like a hypocrite and a hot mess, and it bothers me that people look up to me because it makes me feel as if I have to be perfect. I already get my tired behind out of bed at 5 am to work before the kids get up, so that I have time to shower and straighten my hair, put on all my makeup and choose a stylish outfit. I spend all day picking up behind other people and working from home, and I work my behind off to always look good, have a clean house and keep things the way that I like them. I can’t let go of perfectionism in my home or my appearance, and I kind of hate that about me. I wish I could relax and be more laid-back, but I’m not. And when people tell me that they don’t know how I do it, it just reminds me how hard I push myself to always be perfect.
I Hate Reading to my Kids
It’s my least favorite thing to do. I love reading; it’s my favorite passion. But I hate reading to the kids. They don’t appreciate it, and I’d rather not waste my time when they’re not listening and I could be doing something else. Appreciate literature, tiny humans!
Sometimes I Wish we Could Have More Kids
And then I remember that I have four and I don’t want anymore. But secretly, that’s why I pushed and pushed and pushed my husband into a vasectomy. I don’t want more kids. I’ll go nuts. But every so often when I see their beautiful little faces and their funny little personalities, I regret that this is it. I’m crazy. I know it.
Sometimes I Wish we Had Fewer Kids
A lot. I have fantasies sometimes about how much easier life would be if we stopped with two. Or how much easier life would be if the twins came first and we had one of each and probably wouldn’t have decided on third. And then I look at their sweet faces and remember that having fewer kids means I wouldn’t know two of these amazing little people, and that’s not okay with me. I love them all too much.
I have a Favorite
I really do. I have a favorite. The good news is that it’s not always the same one. It changes based on attitude and mood and behavior.
Baking and Doing Pinterest Projects with the Kids are the WORST
I hate every single second. They make a mess in the kitchen. They make a mess with art projects. They want too much help. They’re too slow. It’s like a giant hour of my life that I will never get back, and they never do things the way I want them to, and I’m too much of a control freak to let go of caring about that.
I don’t Always like My Kids
There are times when my self-righteous oldest daughter is such a tattle tale and such a pain that I realize I wouldn’t be her friend if I were her age. There are times that my 4-year-old is so gross that I realize I don’t even want to touch her because she’s like walking dirt and snot and poop. The twins, however, are still sweet all the time. I always like them. But I do realize there’s a timer on those feelings.
I Don’t Always Make them Brush Their Teeth in the Morning
It’s 12:38 and I’m not actually sure I brushed my teeth this morning, to be quite honest. I can’t remember. On that note, I’m getting up now to do that, but I’m not going to ask the kids. Why? Because they like to put their own toothpaste on their brush and it makes such a mess, and I don’t have time to clean it up. I’ll wait for tonight when it’s daddy is home and he’s in charge of that (oh, come on. These teeth are falling out one day, anyway).
I Think Some Other Parents are Crazy
This is going to get me a lot of flak, I know. But…I’m entitled to my opinion, just as you are and I’m certain many of you will not hesitate to let me know yours. I don’t care how other people raise their kids so long a they are not harming them in any way. However, when a mom tells me she doesn’t believe in forcing kids to go to bed or making them nap or setting a schedule or disciplining her kids – I think she’s lazy and she didn’t enforce these rules so that’s her cop out for a kid that doesn’t go to bed, doesn’t nap and does what he or she wants. Every kid I know with rules and a schedule is smart, intelligent, well-behaved, imperfect and wonderful – but they don’t make the rules.
I also feel that when people say to me, “Babies shouldn’t sleep through the night,” that’s just their way of making themselves feel better that my kids all slept through the night almost right away. In fact, most all the kids I know sleep through the night very early on, and I think that it’s kind of rude when people say that because they insinuate that we are parenting incorrectly. If you genuinely don’t care for my parenting, so what? I probably don’t care for yours either, but I just don’t bother mentioning it. Because I do not care.
I Hate When People Tell me I Look Amazing
I HATE THIS STATEMENT. I hate it with a passion, and I know that sounds strange. I hate it because it is always, always, always followed with “For having four kids,” which is my biggest pet peeve. I look downright amazing, period. End of discussion. I don’t care how vain that sounds or how braggy that sounds; I work my behind off to be thin and fit, and I work my butt off to look good during the day. It makes me feel good and confident. I like to be fit because I want to be alive to watch my hoard grow up. I want to be healthy and thin so that I feel good about myself and that kind of body image is passed down to my kids. I do not want people to look at me and say, “Wow! You look amazing for having four kids!” I look amazing. Don’t discredit that by adding that statement in there that makes me feel as if you wouldn’t think I looked good if I did not have kids.
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