All three of my children who can talk have told me that they hate me this week. In fact, at least two of them have told me that all they want for Christmas is a new mother. On the upside, that might be cheaper than the iPod Touches and the new bikes we were considering.
Something about this time of year — when the holidays are ramping up, and I am working so hard on trying to do the behind the scenes work of creating holiday memories for my kids — makes it even harder to be the parent of young children. There are days when I am just bone-weary from being the taskmaster and the grown up around here. An average day includes the morning routine of nagging each child to brush his teeth, eat his breakfast, get his backpack ready, brush his hair… and that’s all before 8:15 AM.
My husband is regularly at the office well into the evenings, so I am the one who tells the children they have to stop playing the Wii to get ready for (fill in the blank) homework, for dinner, for tennis lessons, or for bed. It’s me that tells them that no, we made a commitment to the (fill in the blank) tennis coach, the flag football team, the math team, and we need to show up for practice. It’s me that signs off on homework, that tells my oldest to re-write the words he wrote too sloppily on his homework, that sends them back to brush their teeth again because the first time they literally only did it for two seconds, that directs them to their rooms for early bedtimes when they misbehave or fight. I don’t want them to eat in the family room in front of the television set, and I don’t believe they should get dessert every night. No wonder the kids hate me. No one wants to be this person, the Fun Sponge, all the time.
I know they don’t really hate me, but I think every mother feels the sting the first time a child tells her that he hates her. I realize it’s my job to give my children boundaries and discipline and structure, but sometimes it just sucks to be this person to them. It’s exhausting. I know it is imperative to their development. I just don’t always feel like doing it. It wears on me, this feeling that I am hard to love. Certainly, we have days when I get to say yes to the splurge treat for no reason or the day at an amusement park, but those days are so few and far between. I am taking it on faith that someday they won’t want to replace me.
I sent my oldest child to bed at 6:45 PM tonight for a repeated offense. Here’s the letter I found when I came home from the grocery store at 8 PM. All grammatical errors are his:
Dear Mom,
I’m sorry about everything I said earlier, I’m just a bit stressed. Your the best mom ever and I love you. So here goes
I am sorry I am sorry I am sorry etc.
Sorry, would have written more but my hand is sore, Hey! That rhymes! So anyway can I come down?
If yes, Thanks again, you won’t regret it.
If no, You suck, your the worst mom ever, I hate you! (Just kidding)
Sincerely,
Mason
Send Charlie with answer
Something tells me he won’t be excited when I give the note back to him with his grammar and spelling corrected. Oh well.
I love that you have taught him to apologize. And I love that he uses humor to further smooth things over. And I love even more that it didn’t work. All signs that you are indeed lovable!
I tell my husband that he gets the pretty side of parenting and I get all the ugly. But the kids remember who was there fighting through the ugly with them.
But, yeah, you’re right, being the “fun sponge” sucks.
Oh man, I remember writing my parents these notes when I was upstairs. TOO funny.
Love the note!!! I hope you’ll save that one forever!
It’s cute that he wrote you a note apologizing. But I so see myself in the same position time and time again. It seems that hubby gets to be the “fun” parent much more than I. But then I’m the one who’s doing and supervising all these things with the kids while he works. Some days it’s tougher than others, isn’t it?