There are moments when I feel an urge to hit my kids. I want to toss things at them. Even kick them, though not all the time. It usually happens when I’ve exhausted my patience, and they’re being particularly selfish or defiant.
I genuinely have wonderful kids, and I lead a happy life. We adore our community, our neighbors, and our home. Being a stay-at-home parent who writes on the side is rewarding, offering both a broader perspective and those small, delightful moments. My children, ages 6 and 3, are bright and curious. They’re chatty yet thoughtful, and I take immense pride in them.
But there are days when I just want to give them a good smack.
When my daughter returns from school, brimming with sass and adamant about keeping her sandals on—declaring, “I don’t care about your carpets”—I calmly remind her, “In the door, shoes off the floor.” When she tells her younger brother, “I got a chocolate muffin because of Emma’s birthday, and I didn’t save any for you,” I recite, “In this family, we don’t say things to hurt others.” And when she snatches a toy from the baby, I tell her she’s welcome to be grumpy but needs to go to her room until she’s ready to discuss her feelings respectfully. But when she locks eyes with me and yells, “No! I won’t go!” before running off laughing, that’s when I really want to give her a good whack.
I’ve grown up in a pacifist environment and have even been a teacher. I detest violence and cherish children, yet I sometimes feel the desire to slap her.
Before becoming a parent, no one warned me about the challenges I’d face. I didn’t realize that many of my friends would grapple with miscarriages. I didn’t know I’d often feel like my needs were a zero-sum game, where my energy devoted to my kids directly cuts into my own. I also had no idea I’d spend countless moments fighting my impulses, suppressing the urge to say things like “be careful,” “that’s too messy,” “hurry up,” or “do it this way.” There are other, more destructive urges that can surface too.
“Don’t shake the baby.” It sounds straightforward. Just don’t do it. But it’s challenging, just as challenging the third time around as it was the first. When the baby cries, I desperately want it to stop. In those overwhelming moments, silencing that noise feels like the most pressing task. It’s tough to regain perspective and remember that keeping the baby safe is the priority.
With my older kids, even when I manage to maintain that perspective, I still wrestle with the intense urge to lash out. It feels instinctual, almost primal. It’s akin to flinching when a baseball zooms toward your face. The ability to stand firm, eyes open and ready, takes training.
Yet, no one provides parents with that kind of training. Classes tend to focus on first aid and protecting your children from external dangers. They don’t prepare you for the moments when you might feel like you’re the threat.
Many parents learn on the job. We navigate the desire to lash out without translating it into action. More often, we redirect that energy elsewhere—kicking a toy, slamming a door, or stepping outside to scream.
Child abuse is an atrocious act, and we must summon every ounce of self-control to avoid it. It’s so unfathomable that before I became a parent, I couldn’t grasp how it could happen. But now, I understand. I don’t hit my kids, but I absolutely get it.
Just don’t do it. Ever. It sounds easy, but it’s far from it.
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In summary, parenting is a journey filled with challenges, and while the urge to react violently can surface, most parents strive to channel that energy into more constructive actions.