The smaller one is entering a Phase. He’s transitioning from a sweet little baby into a monster toddler, and while each phase is new and exciting, we’ve been through this once with the older one, and I don’t want to do it again. I know it’s an important developmental phase to learn independence and exploration etc. etc. … I’m just going to pretend I’m on a beach for the next year +, so wake me up when he’s about to turn 4.

My fear is that this is the beginning of my role as JUST a player in my kids’ stories. Our 5 year old is fully his own person with preferences and tendencies and so on, and the 2 year old has some of those too, though he doesn’t understand why yet. They’ll both be in a bunch of activities, mainly because we’ll encourage them to try a bunch of different things, and with that, I become the stereotype of a chauffeur/cook/cheerleader/etc. that moms get portrayed in movies and commercials. 

The real difficulty right now is because my kids are little and super needy. There is an end in sight that alternates between feeling close and far away, and while I don’t want to wish time away, I’m ready for them to have some independence. I’m working on finding a balance for the moment, as I’ve written about in the past. I don’t WANT to resent my children, and it makes me feel terrible when the feeling crops up sometimes, usually when I haven’t had much time to myself or any creative outlet in a while. 

As a kid, I didn’t think about the fact that my parents were complete people with thoughts and feelings that had nothing to do with me. Kids don’t have that level of empathy. It’s not a reasonable expectation of a kid until they’re older. Part of my brain never grew out of the shock of my own realization, and maybe I’m still dealing with this reconciliation. I resent an idea, not an actual reality of my life. No one is telling me I can’t still be myself with my own desires and interests. I had this image of my parents as monoliths, people who lived their lives and accomplished what they were going to accomplish before having me, and when I realized they might have rather been doing other things, I felt BAD. Plus we’ve all heard the mom stereotypes growing up. This is how parenthood is supposed to be, right?

I’ve been thinking about resentment a lot recently. When something is on my mind, I also tend to talk to people about it, and in talking to people about resentment of kids and parenthood, it is super common, to the point of possibly being universal. I can’t speak for everyone, of course, but I was surprised at how non-monstrous I felt after learning that other people have similar thoughts and feelings. It also made me feel less resentful. I didn’t feel alone. 

To be clear, I don’t walk around hating my kids or this life we’ve created. I love the hell out of them and want to be the best parent in the whole world for them. Occasionally, as in not all the time, I feel resentful that I can’t do whatever I want whenever I want to do it, which is a totally unreasonable expectation for anyone, parent or not. I’m coming to think that my desire to be perfect and falling short is the actual cause of resentment. I’m not going to be perfect. You’re not going to be perfect. None of us has cracked the code yet to achieving perfect balance between parenting, self-care, social life, and fulfillment. But let’s talk to each other because none of us is alone in this, and together, we’re stronger and smarter than we are apart.