I seem to be all about these mom confessions lately, but you know what — sometimes it just feels good to get it out there and off my chest. Sure, some of the things I’ve said perhaps are not topics most would ‘fess up to feeling, but one thing I have learned since I started writing everything for people to read is that I am rarely, if ever alone in what I am feeling.
Before I had children — even before I was married — I knew that I wanted to have kids. I knew that I wanted to have 5 (I won’t get 5 unless we have twins next), I wanted my kids to be both close in age and close in friendship and I looked forward to it. That was never something that I questioned, it was always a given for me.
When I started to get a bit older, and had to babysit and deal with younger kids I started to wonder what kind of mom I would be. I have the best mom ever, so I thought I would follow in her footsteps, but the problem was I didn’t really like those kids. I didn’t even really want to tolerate them.
When my kids came, I fell in love and all those worries washed away, but one thing stuck around — I do not like other people’s kids.
My friends’ kids, I love. When my brothers and sister have kids — I know I will love them too, but my kids’ friends, the kids in the neighbourhood — I can’t stand.
I find them to be loud. They don’t respect space bubbles. They love to do annoying things like scream in my kids’ faces. I find that sometimes I am the one watching them at the playground instead of their parent. They are hyper. They chew with their mouths open. They are messy. They say really strange things, when I can understand them & they just seem to get on my nerves really easily.
& I know my kids are equally annoying to all the other parents. I guess that’s why we’re hard-wired to love our own kids.
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