I Also Hate the Park

So I read this article the other day that purported to confess all the ways in which the author, a mom blogger, didn't "do it all" as a parent.

I am all about confessions. Confess away. Sometimes it's nice to get things off your chest. But I took issue with the article, because this woman's "confessions" were 100% Grade A horse puckey.

She confessed to not wearing makeup every day. Gasp!

To occasionally feeling too sick to play with her kids. Uh - gasp?

To not answering the dryer immediately when it buzzed, with such regularity that she had never folded a basket of warm towels.

Okay - I can't even fake surprise anymore. Or interest. These things have nothing to do with anything - not parenting, not "doing it all", not even just being a regular ol' human of any stripe. You fold warm towels? That's fine. You don't? That's fine, too. But to pretend it was ever somehow the goal is ludicrous - this was clearly a humblebrag in the skin of a confessional, and I just won't stand for it. Most parents are doing the best with what they've got, and they deserve better.

I would like to offer up some of my own parental musings to counter the false perfectionism that some folks seem to want to stuff down other people's throats:

• Subsequent Child Ambivalence. Ohmygawd I can't believe I'm starting this all over again.
• Incremental Returns of Freedom. Buckling their own seatbelts. Zipping their own jackets. Packing their own lunches. Tiny wins, but by golly they're like a gulp of fresh air when you've been immersed for so long in the daily grind of little humans. 
• Outsourcing. Homemade has never felt as good as sane. 
• Difficult Truths. Sometimes, your kids will be real a-holes. It's okay to notice this.
• Adulthood Fatigue. When is it my turn to throw a tantrum?
• Gentle Tyranny I. They stay up later than you, every night of the week. You will never have a moment alone again. 
• Gentle Tyranny II. Or sex - you will never have that again either. Nothing kills the mood like knowing your teenager is quietly doing math homework in the kitchen, directly beneath your bedroom.
• Reducing Entropy. I fantasize - actually, truly fantasize - about the day the kids move out and I can live in a clean house. That stays clean. In fact, some days I think DH can just go ahead and move out too - then NO ONE will walk on my clean floors ever, ever again, and I will be able to die happy.
• The Sound of Silence. I misses it so.

And if this is not enough for you - if you are really having a tough go of things this day (or week, or year) - and all you want is to know that someone out there is doing just as lousy as you feel you're doing right now, or maybe even worse ('cause sometimes that makes one feel a little better)... there's always the Scary Mommy Confessional. Plus wine.

Go in peace.