I have a confession to make.
Actually, I have a few confessions to make, but this is not the time or the place for all of them.
Sure, not many people read this blog. But sometimes (or EVERY time when it comes to confessions) it is not so much the size of the audience that matters but its members.
But I digress.
My confessions here are all mom related.
It’s true, most of the time moms float around, yoga-pant-clad, in some sort of love-induced ecstasy.
But there are those rare moments when we have some not so positive thoughts and do some not so positive things. And that’s what makes us human.
Confession number 1: I am a stage mom of sorts
I like to give my almost three year old spicy or really sour foods so that I can see his facial expressions. I often do it more than once because the first time I wasn’t quick enough with the camera.
Confession number 2: I dream of imagination play…
On days when both kids are home with me I like to play family with them. In this scenario (or should I say fantasy) I am the baby and as the parents they are trying to get me to sleep. I do it because I can lie down, close my eyes and even sleep for a few minutes while getting full credit for playing with them.
Confession number 3: Your laughter can get on my nerves
The sound of children’s laughter, you know the one that someone should bottle, label it happiness and sell around the world? Well, there are times when it sounds like nails on a chalkboard to me.
Confession number 4: My children are my “get-out-of-jail-free” card
“I’m so sad we can’t come to XX, but you know how the little one gets when he doesn’t nap”
“Oh, the little one is getting cranky, so sad we won’t get to watch your wedding video, again!”
“I’m so sorry officer! Was I speeding? My kids were screaming in the back and I guess I got a little bit distracted”
Side- bar confession: My cleavage used to be my “get-out-of-jail” card when I would get pulled-over. I figured the kids owe me since they are the ones who ruined it.
Confession number 5: Punishments have an upside
There are nights when my favourite punishment to the kids for misbehaving is “no bedtime story”. Sometimes I almost wish they misbehave so I can get out of having to read to them.
Confession number 6: It’s mine, and I don’t have to share!
I will often hide in the pantry so I can indulge on a piece of chocolate. I do this not because I feel my children will judge me for eating it (I have friends who do that!) but because I want to enjoy it without having to share it with them.
Confession number 7: Daylight savings time = Personal time sucker
As much as I love the summer I hate that it gets dark so late because it makes “shifting” the bedtime routine an hour earlier much more difficult. It’s so much easier to trick them in the winter when it gets dark at 4pm.
Confession number 8: I hate crafts
I think that play-doh is boring. Crafts are boring. Kids’ museums are boring. I have both envy and disdain for those mothers who flutter about sprinkling glitter and planning crafts.
Admitting that doesn’t make me a bad mom. The fact that I find these activities boring and still do them with my kids makes me an awesome mom! How’s that for unconditional love?
Confession number 9: I’m better than my 5 year old!
I have been in more than one argument with my five year-old about how to organise her kitchen. It gives me great joy and a sense of satisfaction when I organise it in a way that makes sense. i.e. ice-cream in the freezer, fruits and vegetables in the fridge, pizza in the oven.
My satisfaction is, of-course, quickly followed by a sense of overwhelming sadness about my life.
Confession number 10: I have passive-aggressive tendencies
My daughter has beautiful long, curly hair that gets very tangled when wet. Brushing it after she’s been torturing me during her bath makes me smile a little.