Why I Hate Parenting (Not Really, But Sometimes)

Right before bedtime, I told Quinn it was too late to drink his (old, now cold) cup of tea from before dinner.  He took two big glugs anyway and lied to me about it, then got mad at me for “being mean” when he got in trouble.

When I got upstairs, I walked into my bathroom and saw that whichever kids had brushed their teeth in there had left the sink and counter covered in spit and toothpaste.

The toilet was also un-flushed.  And there was pee on the seat.

In the little boys’ room, all their school uniforms, shed hours earlier, were still lying on the floor.  Owen couldn’t find his favorite stuffed animal that was literally two feet from his face.  I stepped on a Lego.

It took Matt and I a half hour to get the kids actually, physically into their beds.  I had to yell at least five times.  They always seem surprised when I get annoyed at fifty requests and delays at bedtime, then make me feel guilty about not wanting to sit and chat for another twenty minutes.

Tomorrow is another day, though.  One in which my children get to learn the joys of cleaning bathroom sinks and toilets and picking up Legos!

Also, a reminder of why I love parenting, and the achievement of a parenting milestone.


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3 thoughts on “Why I Hate Parenting (Not Really, But Sometimes)

  1. Jane

    Every.Single.Night!! do you want milk before we go upstairs, because once we go up you aren’t getting it..no, okay good. 10 minutes later in bed-may I have milk!?!?!


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