I confess that I let my daughter go to school with mismatching socks on a regular basis. If she doesn’t care, neither do I.
I confess that I let my kids go three and sometimes even four days without a bath. Gross. I know.
I confess that we don’t buy bread anymore now that I’m gluten-free, so my four year old son almost starts hyperventilating with excitement when he sees a baguette on the table at my in-laws house. “Du painnnnnnn! Du painnnnnnn! ”
I confess that my favorite part of the day is when my kids are finally in bed for good and I can cuddle up on the couch, eat dark chocolate, and watch Netflix in peace.
I confess that I let my son leave his cars and trucks sprawled out all over his room just the way he likes even if it looks like a bomb went off. I’d rather trip on one and bust my face during the night than deal with the meltdown that inevitably occurs if I dare rearrange them.
I confess that I sometimes tell my kids that I have medicine in my mouth, when in reality it’s chocolate or something I just don’t want to share.
I confess that when I’m really tired, I secretly skip over pages when reading to my son and pray he doesn’t notice.
I confess that I feel a sense of relief when I see French kids – as in full-blooded French kids – throw a fit. They say French children don’t throw food, but they do throw temper tantrums and it does this American mommy good to be reminded of that every now and then.
I confess that when my kids complain about what I cook every single day, I momentarily fantasize about dumping their plates in their laps and saying How do you like that?!
I confess that I would rather have my teeth pulled than help with homework. I have no patience. Like none. It’s bad.
I confess that I am still mourning the career I could have had.
I confess that I am so paranoid about getting lice that I awkwardly avoid letting my hair come in contact with my kids’ hair when I cuddle with them. Neither of my kids has ever actually had lice, but it seems like it’s always going around school and just the thought of getting it sends me into panic.
I confess that motherhood sometimes feels like voluntary slavery. That doesn’t mean I don’t love my kids more than anything in the world though, so put down your stones…..
I confess that, every now and then when my husband is out of town and I’m beyond exhausted, I “forget” to brush my son’s teeth before bed. I mean, they’re going to fall out anyways…
I confess that I don’t like playing with my kids or with any kid for that matter. Play just isn’t my thing. The only games I can even tolerate are card games, the (occasional) board game, or maybe a friendly round of soccer once or twice a year. This is a huge source of mom guilt for me!
I confess that I wonder how being a SAHM will shape my children’s views of the role of women in society.
I confess that I don’t know when I should explain to my children that I have Multiple Sclerosis. Part of me wishes they knew so that they would better understand why I don’t have as much energy as their daddy, why I have bad days, and why I always have to go to the doctor/hospital frequently. But, the other part of me realizes that knowing Mommy is sick is a heavy burden for a child bear.
I confess that I sometimes eat the food my son drops on the floor because I’m too lazy to walk to the trash can.
I confess that sometimes all I want to do is stick the kids in front of the tv so I can lay on the couch and read. But instead, I feel like I have to make them do puzzles, or homework, or go to the park or do something productive. My husband brings his A-game to this parenting thing 24/7/365, so I feel like I’m not allowed to be lazy.
I confess that I let my kids wear the same dirty socks over and over again if they want, because Seriously. I’ve got bigger fish to fry.
Can relate to any of my confessions or did I just make you feel like a waaaaay better parent:)
What are your mommy confessions? I’d love to hear them!!!