Everybody talks of the beauty of being a parent. Many also share their challenges and hardships. But not often do we hear about disliking being a parent. Is it unkind, ungrateful and blasphemous to admit that I sometimes hate being a parent.
Yes, hate. I often say to people how hate is such a strong word. I try to use the term dislike in many places where I’d probably use hate, more out of frustration and being caught up in the moment. But yes, in this instance; I would use the word HATE.
I hate being ‘not in control’.
I despise being or feeling so utterly vulnerable.
I am not fond of being so fond of something that I have to spend every waking moment (and probably my sleeping ones too) worrying about it.
Being an emotional wreck, is not something I look forward to. The soul stirring, earth- shattering sort of love is not my cup of tea.
Having to be answerable to the upbringing, life and times of another human being; when I can barely manage my own, is difficult to cope with even on the best of days.
Planning weeks ahead, so that I can have one spare, unplanned moment to cherish is a bloody, darned pain.
Going against every evolutionary/ instinctive grain, and putting my wishes and needs last, at the very the bottom; sucks.
Being on call- 24/7, every day of the year, for the rest of your life… well, that is a binding clause in the parenting contract.
Making do, hoping for the best, leaving things to destiny/ God/ fate/ the universe is not my style.
Not knowing the the outcome, of all your back- breaking, nerve- wracking efforts is beyond horrid.
Being helpless, when another being’s pain is felt deep within yourself, magnified a hundred times, while you stand there watching; powerless and dejected, is an exercise in misery.
Ugh! I sometimes truly hate being a parent, and I ain’t the mum of a teenager yet!
And yet, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
Till next time..