I Love My Kids But I Don’t Love Being A Mom

I feel like this title says it all. I love my kids but I don’t love being a Mom.

There. Can I just click “publish” and that you will understand what I am trying to say?

Maybe you won’t.

Listen, this doesn’t mean I don’t love my kids. It just means this parenting thing has not come naturally to me. So before you start judging me, just chill out for a minute.

Maybe you will judge me like I did to the Mom at the library Story Time today, I will judge you.

Side Note:

If you are the parent of a “spirited child”, like I am,  I think you should stay at Story Time and watch your children. I don’t think you should use that 30 minutes to go and look for a book for yourself and leave the rest of us to deal with your children and their “spiritedness.”  I have enough “spiriteness” in my life. There is an app for libraries that you can get on your damn phone to get the books you want from the comfort of pooping on your own toilet. Do that. M’kay.


Where was I?


I love my kids but, I don’t love being a Mom.

I am just going to repeat myself.

Can you relate to this? Do you get what I am saying?

I’m sure my Mom is having a coronary. I’m sorry. It is just not something I grew up wanting to “be”.

I am fully aware that I am a Mom and that I love those two little spawns that flew out of my vagina like a plastic bag in a windstorm, but I hate the dirty work of parenting.

Do you still not follow what I am trying to say?

Let’s try this.


I really don’t want to battle over eating meatloaf. And it is not just a battle with the kids, its a battle with me.  It is a battle within me that feels that since I made the bloody meatloaf that the kids should at least taste it because that is what’s for supper and I am not making them anything else. I feel like they need some protein and that I have provided them that protein.  I feel like I am the Mom and if I want them to eat one bite of the meatloaf then they should. I feel like I have no idea how I got here battling myself over meatloaf. I don’t know why I even fucking care about them eating the meatloaf.

Yet, here I am battling my favourite people in the entire world over something they drown in ketchup.

Is battling your kids over meatloaf actually parenting?

I doubt it.

To me, parenting is giving them a timeout in the grocery store because they keep licking the grapes or hiding in toilet paper rolls.

On that note; Please wash the grapes that you bought today from Safeway. 

I hate timeouts. I hate that it seems to be the only way they will listen to me. If there is a threat of losing something they love, like screen time, those little jerks will pay attention to my high pitched voice.

I hate taking away screen time.

That’s a punishment for me.

There is nothing I hate more than having to follow through on a timeout. I cringe when I get to #2. Don’t make me have to give you a time out in Safeway. Please. Please. Damn it. Please, I don’t want to. But, it’s all I got. And when #2 doesn’t work anymore, I am pretty damn sure that my horrible attempt at parenting is going to be fucked.

They are the most beautiful children. They are the funniest children. They are kind and smart and incredibly “spirited”. But, I don’t love parenting them.

There are a few Mom moments that are pretty special, sadly they mostly involve them falling off a bike and needing me to kiss their bleeding knee. But, I do love how irreplaceable I am at that moment. I will desperately miss it when it ends.

Quite possibly, I am just tired of not being the “fun” parent. Mom always has to drop the hammer and be the fun police. That is not for me. I don’t want to do that anymore. But, I have to.


Because I’m the Mom.

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