You know those days where you just feel like the WORST? Well, read below and you will feel better and realize that I’m actually holding down that title, thank you very much.
- I yell too much. Every time I lose my cool, I hate myself for it. And yet, I can’t seem to stop. I’ve tried walking away. I’ve tried counting to ten (hundred). I’ve tried reminding myself that whatever I am getting up in arms about won’t matter in one-five-ten years. And all those things work until they don’t. Then when that straw hits my hump, it’s like I am unleashing every single freaking moment of mommy frustration that has ever been. The more I try to stuff my every day frustration/anger/bewilderment down, the louder it seems to be when it finally vomits itself up. And I have great kids. I can only imagine what I’d be like if I had terrors on my hands. Probably locked up in the loony bin.
- I am a walking contradiction. I can’t control my temper, yet I want them to control theirs. I set screen limits, yet when I need a break to get stuff done I let them watch TV to their hearts’ content. I want them to be happy, loving, friendly brothers, yet when they are talking incessantly about utter nonsense for seemingly hours on end, I just wish they would be quiet. I want them to keep their rooms tidy, yet my room has piles of books and papers and clothes all over. I complain that they don’t appreciate all I do for them, yet they get spoiled by getting what they want without having to work very hard at it. I’m my own worst enemy in parenting.
- I don’t do enough to facilitate their friendships. Setting up play dates has never been my strong suit. Up until now, I have let Cub Scouts and sports be their main social activities, as well as birthday parties and such. That’s not to say that they’ve never gone over to other kids’ houses to play and vice versa, but it doesn’t happen with as much regularity as it probably should and it is almost always initiated by someone else. I want them to make friends outside of each other, yet I am not actively helping them do that. If they end up socially backward and unable to make friends, I am certainly to blame.
- My expectations of them are too high. I expect them to always do their best. I expect them not to sneak Halloween candy when they have been told not to. I expect them to follow my instructions the first time I issue them and not when they feel like it. I expect them to be able to remember to bring everything they need to bring to school with them in the morning and to remember to bring it all home again. I expect them to do their chores without whining and complaining so that they can have play time. I expect them not to run around the house, jump on furniture, and wrestle around. I expect them to hear the word “no” without the world coming to an end. I expect that when someone goes into their room to get dressed, I won’t find that someone naked 15 minutes later looking at trading cards. Really, I expect them to reason and behave like adults.
- I worry about them to the extreme. I am always worried about the ways I am surely screwing them up. I worry that they picked up all of the bad habits and traits of both of their parents. I worry that we don’t eat organic. I worry that they won’t have the right “stuff” to fit in. I worry that I yell too much and change my mind too much and don’t do enough for them or do too much for them. I worry that they are exposed to too much violence on TV and in their video games. I worry about bullying. I worry about drugs. I worry about their self-esteems. I worry that they won’t be happy. I worry that they will get sick. I spend so much time worrying about them that I don’t always make the most of the time we have.
I’m sure if I really put my mind to it, I could come up with many more reasons and examples of how I am truly sucking at the parenting thing. But I guess we all have our moments. Would love to hear other people’s thoughts on why they are the worst (or best).