There was a time when everything I did was for me. All for me. Want to sleep in? Fine. Want to go out to eat? Fine. Want to let the house turn into a pit of despair? Fine. These days, I have four minions who demand my time, energy and effort. I don’t have the freedom of choice like I used to. So there are things that I hate, but I do them anyway. Because I love my kids. Come, read with me.
Don’t get me wrong. I really do love my kids. I would walk on hot fiery stones for them. I would take a bullet for them. I would do anything to protect them. Anything. But that doesn’t mean that there are some things that I really hate to do that they ask me to do daily.
I really don’t like going outside. I mean, I like it. But I prefer to be alone, with a book and a glass of something cool to drink. Or maybe by a fire with a nice cocktail. I like adult time outside. I like quiet time outside. I even like snoozing outside. But I don’t so much enjoy worrying that my kids are going to get hurt outside. Or watching them climb to the frightening heights of our backyard playground. Or sweating. I don’t like sweating. Related: I don’t like freezing.
Swimming in a pool
Last summer, we joined a local pool. Did I do this for me? Oh no. I did this for my kids. I did this for family memories and fun heart-filling experiences and something to do. I do not enjoy swimming, and I haven’t really enjoyed it since around the time my eye sight got so bad that without contacts I was blind as a bat.
Yes, I know I can wear goggles. But come on, people. I’m already lacking in cool points and confidence with my mom bod. I do not need to add to the goofy with a pair of goggles. (However, the one time I allowed myself to try goggles, I went under water, opened my eyes to swim, and enjoyed the heck out of that fifteen minutes.)
I also don’t like splashing. Lord help it when the kids get excited and jump off the side and splash me in the face. I. wear. contacts. Please do not get your chlorine-filled water in my eyes. I will be blind.
I used to love bath time. When Sassy Pants was a baby, bath time was a joyous experience filled with cute noises and bubbles and warm, snuggly towels.
Then we had boys back-to-back and all they want to do is splash and pour water out of the side of the bath. I can’t stand it. They prefer that Daddy gives them a bath and the feeling is mutual.
They are always dirty or they are always needing to be put away. I have dreams of hiring someone to just do my dishes and keep the counters cleaned off. This is a for-real source of my anxiety. But my kids and husband must eat. Thus, we must clean the dishes. I don’t always have the job, but it still drives me insane.
I really like to sleep. And I’m a night owl, so I stay up later than I should. It’s when my mojo kicks in (like, as I’m writing this post), and it’s when everyone is quiet and leaving me alone.
But these kids seem to think that 6 A.M. is the wonder hour and that they should bother us. I don’t enjoy this.
Similarly, I don’t enjoy those moments when they wake up barfing or coughing or crying. Don’t get me wrong. I’m going to tend to them, but I really wish that I could just roll over and let Math Man take care of it. Until I remember they are my babies, and I love them.
What do you do that you hate? Tell me in the comments.
And it’s February, so let’s spread the love. Go see what my buddies are talking about with the theme, “Love is in the air.”
From Spatulas on Parade, we have a yummy dessert recipe.