Fix. It. Jesus. I’m A Good Mom But I Don’t Like My Kids Right Now.

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I’m a good mom but I don’t like my kids right now.

I love my kids. I do. I will go zero to Karen and cut a ho that tries to come at my kid sideways, but hear me when I say that I have been with these little lunatics for every single day for more than two months.

Every hour. Every day.

Every meal. Every snack. Every sibling argument. Every meltdown. Every bedtime.

Forever and ever, amen.

My mom probably loses sleep over how I turned out. She’s makeup and hair appointments. I’m football and sarcasm. She’s a lady. I’m basically a dude who appreciates a dress with pockets.

She missed out on teaching me how to braid my hair or apply my eye shadow, but she did pass along one priceless piece of advice:

Being a mom is the hardest job you’ll ever have because you will love your children beyond anything imaginable, but there will be days where you just plain don’t like them.

And all God’s people said, “Amen!”

I know, sister. We are all supposed to be joining hands and singing kumbyeyah as we swap from-scratch recipes and teary-eyed stories of all of the family memories made while we’re being given the joy of pressing ‘pause’.

Well excuse the Johanna Gaines outta me (No offense intended. I love you, Jo.), but these feral children are bringing me to the brink of insanity and I refuse to even attempt to let my children let me bake because, just no. Every single day feels like a wait-out-the-clock situation and it is just me vs. bedtime, trying to make it to 8:00pm. Fix. It. Jesus.

My kids spend 70% of their day arguing like prosecuting attorneys over everything from board games to the color of their cup, where each one of them are sitting to who is looking at them too hard.

The other 30% of their awake hours are used to transform our house into a Skid Row dumpster fire and ask for snacks immediately following a meal they complained about..

In zero ways does this sentiment make me a bad mom.

Lean in, Judgy McSassypants.

I am not a bad mom because some days I don’t like my kids and sometimes I dream of running away to a deserted island or even just to an empty parking spot in Target FOR. THE. LOVE.

All I am guilty of is being a human person with my own feelings, frustrations, and fears. I have my own stressors and my own needs that can absolutely not be met or even considered when I have other tiny people hanging off of my body parts at all times.

This does not make me a failure.

This is honest transparency to remind you that you aren’t alone if you’ve found yourself hiding in the bathroom from your kids or telling your husband you need to pick up your grocery order, and then sitting there 15 extra minutes so you don’t return to the house still feeling all stabby.

Kids are wild and loud, fiesty and figuring things out.

We aren’t meant to be together every second and not completely lose it sometimes.

It takes a village and when the teacher, the store clerk, the baker, the coffee shop owner, the librarian, the coaches, the counselors, and the restaurant chef all take a vacation at the same time, it leaves the rest of us floundering.

That isn’t bad. It’s normal.

And, for the record, this just proves these kids take after their dad.

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