This morning, I completely lost my cool.
After the kids were dressed, breakfast was devoured, teeth brushed, and backpacks ready, I switched on the TV. I have a rule about what they can watch. There’s a lot of junk on television—shows aimed at teens and preteens that promote disrespectful behavior. Honestly, it’s tough enough to manage my kids without adding those influences. So, the rule is simple: Mom picks the channel, and they must stick to it. But my daughter, Mia, never seems to follow this rule. As soon as I step out of the room, she grabs the remote, hunting for some obnoxious show featuring snarky teens.
This morning was no different. Within seconds of tuning into a kid-friendly channel—specifically for little Oliver—Mia had already switched it. “Mia, please leave the TV alone,” I requested. When I checked back a few minutes later, she was once again changing the channel. That was it; I snapped.
The house erupted with my yelling and swearing. “I’VE TOLD YOU A THOUSAND TIMES TO NOT TOUCH THE TV!” I bellowed. “GO TO YOUR ROOM! STAY THERE UNTIL SCHOOL TIME!” But she just stood there, frozen. “GO NOW!” I shouted, and as I chased her down the hallway, she barely made it to her room first, locking the door behind her.
“Why did she lock the door?!” I grumbled. “MOM! Are you actually going to hurt her? Did you really just say that?!” my youngest, Lily, screamed from the other room. “OPEN THIS DOOR!” I yelled, and finally, Mia unlocked it. “You can’t lock me out like that again! Do you understand?” I yelled, my frustration boiling over.
Meanwhile, my husband, Jake, was trying to soothe me. “Just leave me alone!” I yelled back. “I do EVERYTHING for you lot—including you! And this is how I get treated?!”
I realize now that my anger over an eight-year-old changing the channel was merely the tipping point. It wasn’t just about that. It was the relentless tantrums from Oliver at breakfast, the major meltdown from Mia last night when I said no to her wanting an Instagram account (she’s only ten!). It’s the constant bickering, the endless “I want, I want, I want,” and the lack of willingness to help with simple tasks like setting the table or tidying up. You’d think I was asking them to do the impossible! And let’s not forget Jake’s frequent absences, leaving me to feel like I’m carrying this massive load alone.
I’m not brushing off my meltdown; I feel ashamed. I truly wish I could maintain my composure better. And to avoid sounding like my own mother who believed her happiness depended on her children, let me clarify—I know kids are just being kids. Their actions aren’t personal; I get that.
Yet, some days, motherhood feels like a colossal “screw you.” This is why people say parenting is tough. Not because it’s a mental or physical marathon—although it can be—but because it’s emotionally draining. It often goes unappreciated, and I feel like I’ve sacrificed so much of myself. I give and give, and it often feels like I’m met with resistance or, worse, indifference. I don’t need accolades; I just want a little cooperation and respect for the rules that are reasonable!
Admitting these feelings isn’t easy. Society often glorifies motherhood, showcasing it as an endlessly fulfilling journey. At times, it is. But often, it isn’t. I’m not sure why I felt compelled to share this today—maybe it’s to seek connection, to know I’m not alone in this.
After dropping the kids off at school this morning, I realized Mia had forgotten her lunch at home. Who do you think packed the little ones back into the car to take it to her? Because that’s what moms do.
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Summary:
Motherhood can often feel overwhelming and emotionally taxing. The author shares a candid experience of losing her temper over a simple issue, illustrating the deeper frustrations of parenting. Despite the challenges, she emphasizes the importance of understanding and connection in the parenting journey.