I truly love my son. I do. I really love him. The thing is…..there are times when I just don’t like him very much.
The weight of the guilt I used to feel about this used to keep me up at night. I used to pray to be a better mom. I prayed for patience, a lot. I asked God to forgive me for being such a disgusting person. I prayed that my very occasional dislike for Son was just a reaction to the Terrible 2′s or the Whiney 6 year-old Stage or the 14 year-old I Know Everything, You’re Just Stupid Stage.
Then, I remember that I am merely human, and that it is totally ok to not like your kids sometimes. I mean, let’s be honest here. They can be total dickheads sometimes.
Your child is two months old. It’s 7:00 p.m. You haven’t had a full night’s sleep in approximately 40 days, but who’s counting? Your baby has been bathed, diapered and fed. You think to yourself, “This is the night.” You can feel it. Your baby is going to sleep through the night. If you and Hubby can stay awake long enough, you might even get some.
You kiss your baby’s beautiful little nose, turn out the light, and close the door. Fifteen minutes later your baby is screaming so loud that your first instinct is to call 9-1-1, because obviously a Dingo is stealing your baby. Your baby is up for the for the next 8 hours. Crying. For no reason. You love your baby, but you don’t like him very much right now.
Your child is 2 1/2 years-old. You have to go to the grocery store. Because you haven’t had a full night’s sleep in approximately 910 days, you’re not thinking clearly. You decide to take your toddler with you.
You’re flying through the store Supermarket Sweep style because your baby’s nap time is in about 5 minutes. If he doesn’ t get his nap he turns into a little troll who will make you want to kill yourself. You have about $800 worth of groceries in your cart, but you know you won’t be able to put a decent meal together with any of it because you didn’t have time to check your list. You need to get the hell out of dodge.
You’re in line to check out when your baby notices a red plastic squirt gun. He wants it. He tells you he wants it. You say no. His baby neck veins pop out. He’s screaming. You’re sure he’s going to hyperventilate. He’s in full meltdown mode. You leave your cart full of groceries at the checkout, and drag a screaming, kicking child through the crowded parking lot. You have cereal and hot dogs for dinner. Love does not equal like.
You’re exhausted from a long day at work. Dinner has been served, dishes are done, and there is a box-o-wine in the fridge with your name on it. Just as you sit down to enjoy a glass before heading to bed your 7 year-old informs you that her history project is due….tomorrow. As you look over her assignment you realize your options are to either create an entire Indian village out of toothpicks, twine, and glitter or recreate the Battle of Gettysburg using leggos, firecrackers, food coloring, and toilet paper rolls.
You’re up the entire night glueing glittler-covered tampons to toothpicks You’re a little drunk, but you’re pretty sure you don’t like your kid so much right now.
It’s Monday. It’s Summer vacation. Before you go to work you leave a note for your 15 year-old kindly asking him to pick up the dirty underwear and socks that are hanging from the ceiling fan in his room, take the chicken out of the freezer, and let the dogs out once in a while.
You walk in the door at 5:15 P.M., to the shower running, the freezer door wide open, your puppy chewing on dirty boxers, every dish in the house dirtied and on your coffee table, dirty socks sitting on the entertainment center, ESPN blaring on the T.V., a freshly laid dog turd sitting in the middle of the livingroom, and a note that reads, “Mom, I need $20.00 and I’m suppose to sell 150 raffle tickets for football by Wednesday.”
So, yeah. I don’t like my kid sometimes.