I don't like being a parent. I liked reading about parenting before I had a child. I read proper parenting books. Now I read blog entries on other moms having a hard time and feel less alone. Before I had Fizzah, I thought, of course I'll spend one on one quality time with my kid! Just 20 minutes every day? That's so easy! There are so many benefits! Why wouldn't I?
Well, hold on. She takes up so much of my time as it is, I just don't feel like giving her any more. She takes unplanned "quality time". She climbs all over me and likes to roll around on my body, pull my hair, bite me and laugh, literally, at my face. Have I birthed a bully? Admittedly, I kind of enjoy this rolling around. But I'd rather not spend (even more) time trying to teach her her ABC's and 123s and basic manners.
She finds all kinds of things to pass the time, without me. She goes into my cupboard and messes around with my things. She takes out her books that she can’t yet read and scrapes and rips the glossy covers off. She thinks everything is a sticker. She throws things out the window and we live on the 19th floor. There are people down there on the road. You see how this could be a problem.
I have to force myself to mother (see how similar mother is to smother?), and most days I can't bring myself to do it. It doesn’t come naturally. What comes naturally is the love/rage/hate/shame/guilt/LOL moods flickering throughout the day. What comes naturally is my raging against this prison of having to make (or just heat up) lunch and trying to get Fizzah to eat it. Trying to get her to eat it without spilling, or running all over the house. Trying to get her to agree to let me pick her up so that we can wash her hands after she’s done.
Trying, and often failing. Then yelling. Then letting it go because it’s not really worth all the screaming, is it. I feel terrible now for judging other mothers in my free, childless days. [Note: It is difficult to pick up a toddler against her will and force them to do anything. They can sense weakness. If your intention has the slightest, hair-like crack, if your eyes contain even a drop of mercy, you can be sure you’ve already lost. May as well give up in advance.]
Don't get me wrong, I love this little person. I love her to pieces. She randomly hugs me 20 times a day. She runs in towards me and throws her hands around my legs and sticks her head in. It feels amazing. It’s like she wants to go back into my womb. I pat her back and feel pretty damn good. Joke’s on you, kid. We’re long past the point of no return.
She won’t let me change her diaper, she won’t go to the washroom, she won't wear pants, she won’t let me comb her hair, she won't, she won't, she won't, she won’t.
So excuse me, for eating my breakfast before feeding her, for giving her a piece of the chocolate while I finish off the bar, for eating chips and re-caffeinating myself at 11am while she naps. I may not be a good mom but I'm a grown up so I can do these things, thank you very much. I won't share my chips with my kid.
Well, hold on. She takes up so much of my time as it is, I just don't feel like giving her any more. She takes unplanned "quality time". She climbs all over me and likes to roll around on my body, pull my hair, bite me and laugh, literally, at my face. Have I birthed a bully? Admittedly, I kind of enjoy this rolling around. But I'd rather not spend (even more) time trying to teach her her ABC's and 123s and basic manners.
She finds all kinds of things to pass the time, without me. She goes into my cupboard and messes around with my things. She takes out her books that she can’t yet read and scrapes and rips the glossy covers off. She thinks everything is a sticker. She throws things out the window and we live on the 19th floor. There are people down there on the road. You see how this could be a problem.
I have to force myself to mother (see how similar mother is to smother?), and most days I can't bring myself to do it. It doesn’t come naturally. What comes naturally is the love/rage/hate/shame/guilt/LOL moods flickering throughout the day. What comes naturally is my raging against this prison of having to make (or just heat up) lunch and trying to get Fizzah to eat it. Trying to get her to eat it without spilling, or running all over the house. Trying to get her to agree to let me pick her up so that we can wash her hands after she’s done.
Trying, and often failing. Then yelling. Then letting it go because it’s not really worth all the screaming, is it. I feel terrible now for judging other mothers in my free, childless days. [Note: It is difficult to pick up a toddler against her will and force them to do anything. They can sense weakness. If your intention has the slightest, hair-like crack, if your eyes contain even a drop of mercy, you can be sure you’ve already lost. May as well give up in advance.]
Don't get me wrong, I love this little person. I love her to pieces. She randomly hugs me 20 times a day. She runs in towards me and throws her hands around my legs and sticks her head in. It feels amazing. It’s like she wants to go back into my womb. I pat her back and feel pretty damn good. Joke’s on you, kid. We’re long past the point of no return.
She won’t let me change her diaper, she won’t go to the washroom, she won't wear pants, she won’t let me comb her hair, she won't, she won't, she won't, she won’t.
So excuse me, for eating my breakfast before feeding her, for giving her a piece of the chocolate while I finish off the bar, for eating chips and re-caffeinating myself at 11am while she naps. I may not be a good mom but I'm a grown up so I can do these things, thank you very much. I won't share my chips with my kid.
Excellent post! Mothers sacrifice enough, without that sacrifice having to be all-encompassing. One can love a child, yet not always like them, or be in the mood for them, or smother them. Bravo! (This is Dom, btw)
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