Let’s talk about kids.

Specifically all the wishes that I “cherish these precious memories” and tidings that I remember that “these days go so fast.”

I am not that person. I honestly don’t know if I am even built to be a mother on some days because my ability to be around people each day is limited and moms really don’t get down time to recharge when these kids are small.

I honestly don’t know if I am even built to be a mother on some days because my ability to be around people each day is limited and moms really don’t get down time to recharge when these kids are small.

Summer breaks are hard on me because I wake up to kids. Every activity and every errand, I am bringing my kids. When one naps, I have the other kid. When it is bedtime, there is always a kid trying to sneak into my bed guaranteeing that not only are my kids the last thing I see at night but also the first thing I’ll see in the morning. One is in the FU 4s so his days are made up of whining about things he didn’t know he wanted to do until someone else did them and then throwing tantrums about the loss of opportunity. One is in the Disney Sass Tweens where she wants the ability to do more mature things but also has the brain of a 10-year-old (I’m looking directly at you right now, YouTube).

I just took a break from writing this post because a cat pooped on the floor in the dining room just yards from where I stand and the smell was overwhelming.

So yes, this summer is a fantastic opportunity to spend all this time doing great activities with the kids. It is an opportunity many people don’t get because they have to work or their kids are grown. I get it. I understand why they look at me and my kids and long for days of yore.

But I’m still in the parenting phase where they still want my full attention all day. Yesterday while waiting to pick up Peanut from dance class I’m standing in the lobby watching her class practice on the closed-circuit TV. Only I can’t watch her because Bubs is trying to re-enter my vagina, and when he fails he starts head-butting my butt and purse.

I want to be that person who fully engages in my kids and makes their lives magical. But holy crap do you realize what a sacrifice that would be? Yesterday at the kid watch they fought over who was going to play on an iPad. An iPad on a wall with more than 10 iPads all loaded with the same apps. Yesterday Bubs got mad because I didn’t get him a treat at Aldi when he just ate two homemade-with-love cookies at the house no less than 2 hours earlier.

Minimizing the work load of a stay-at-home mom sets up kids to be entitled brats and sets up grown women to be domestic servants in their own homes.

The guilt associated with all of this is overwhelming, sort of like that pile of cat crap. Minimizing the work load of a stay-at-home mom sets up kids to be entitled brats and sets up grown women to be domestic servants in their own homes. If raising these kids is my job then I need time off. There is absolutely no reason I should wake up, roll over to see my kid with his foot in my kidney, know that my husband has moved to the spare room for the night and groan that I’m about to start another day of the same-old same-old.

So if, when I’m requesting or subtly demanding some time off, don’t volley back a “cherish these precious moments.” If my introvert battery is on E and I look like I’m clearly¬†not enjoying standing in the checkout line with whiny kids demanding sugar, keep your sentimentality to yourself.

Please and thank you.

 

P.S. Within 20 minutes of having finished writing this post, one kid has fussed at me because the other one won’t get out of “their” chair and the other has rolled their eyes because I told them they didn’t need to fill a giant water bottle with the fridge door wide open. Bubs was so upset when he thought I said we would be going to the gym and I corrected him that he flopped into the floor and dragged his butt across the room while sounding like a dying cow. I had to silently hand-gesture beg Peanut to relinquish the chair (met with much groaning and stomping) just to get him out from under my feet.