A while back I had a guilty conscience regarding my parenting and went to my girlfriends to ease my mind. Over the next several months, we built up quite a spectacular list that we started calling “Mom Confessions.” Every time we did something that would normally make us feel guilty, we confessed to each other and had a chuckle instead. I’m not including names, but let’s just count on our husbands never reading this because some are pretty freakin’ obvious.
These are our stories.
(Imagine Law & Order sound effect here. Bum bum.)
I took a half empty dishwasher that was clean, and instead of emptying and loading it again, I just threw the dirty ones in too and rewashed the clean ones.
I’ve put away dirty dishes on accident thinking the dishwasher was clean and when I realized it, I decided I had probably “rinsed” them enough that I just wasn’t going to reload it.
I eat Nutella with a spoon while I yell at my kids for eating just Nutella in their sandwiches.
I pretend I’m pooping just so my husband won’t come in the bathroom.
I’ve pretended to be sick a lot longer than I actually was so I could stay in bed longer.
I’ve pretended to have my period to get out of sex.
I’ve pretended my period lasted like two weeks.
I’ve donated annoying toys to goodwill and told my kid I didn’t know where they went.
I’m so glad my baby hates the gym day care so I don’t have to go.
I’ve let my kids’ “rest time” last 4 hours just so I could watch another episode of my show and then I told the kids it only lasted an hour.
I’ve gotten seriously mad at people for giving my kids noisy toys.
I have a rule if you go the pool after 5pm that counts as your bath.
I’ve donated unopened toys knowing I would hate them.
I have a stock pile of gifts people have given my children that I don’t want them to have (mostly crafts that require parental assistance). And I re-gift them for birthday parties.
One time my kid had a bad blowout diaper and I forgot to bring a change of clothes. So I took an outfit off the rack at Target, changed him then scanned him at the counter.
I make sure my kids bathe at least once a week … But beyond that it’s really only if they stink.
I pretend to sleep sometimes so my husband has to get up with the baby
I really sell the hard sleep by acting surprised. Like, “Wow he slept through the night! This is amazing!” Then my hubby’s like “Well, actually…”
If I know my husband slept soundly and won’t know, I will lie and say the baby got up like 5 times so he’ll feel bad and let me sleep in.
I told my kids that if they’re lying, I’ll know because their tongues turn a different color and only their moms can see it. So when I think they’re lying I make them stick out their tongues. If they hesitate, I know they’re lying.
I never know what the hell I’m doing.
I’ll pretend not to see gross shit so that my hubby will have to clean it up when he notices.
I’ll tell my husband something is a guy thing so he has to teach our son something and I don’t have to. Or so he has to answer the 50 million “Why?” questions that follow up that one “guy” question.
I’m literally afraid of my children if they don’t sleep enough.
When my oldest got a cavity I felt vindicated and only just barely held back the “I f@cking told you to floss better!”
I was so tired the other night because my baby only sleeps 3 to 4 hours that I told my toddler he could skip teeth brushing.
I don’t want to take care of plants. So I kill them on purpose. All of them.
I really don’t give a shit if they eat candy. I just don’t want them to eat MY candy.
So I don’t look like the bad mom of an undisciplined child, I took the fall for a broken candle at Bath and Body Works. I chose to look clumsy rather than like a shit mom.
So that I don’t get in trouble, I blame the not-talking baby for everything from farts to breaking shit.
I’ll lie and say I hurt myself playing rough house with the boys so I get a massage from my husband.
I’ll pretend to be more stressed than I am so he doesn’t get upset that I didn’t do the laundry.
I told my kids Dad’s the fun one and he’s gone now so they don’t push my limits today.
I’ll leave the kids with my husband and tell him my errands took so long because the grocery store was crazy busy. But actually I was just sitting in the Starbucks next to the store drinking a coffee.
I will watch shows we watch together and them re-watch them pretending I haven’t.
When my husband is subtly annoying me for no good reason, and we have sex, I turn around so I don’t have to look at him.
I tell myself that guacamole counts as baby food.
My kids think that restaurant is pronounced restronaut and because it’s cute, I don’t correct it. In fact, I correct them if they pronounce it properly. They may get made fun of the rest of their lives, but it makes my heart happy.
I don’t want to teach them anything. They’re dicks when I make them sit still.
They’re just like me. I have never hated myself more than when I realized that.
My daughter punched a bully in the face. I’ve never been more proud of her.
I get proud when my children use curse words in the proper context. Or spell them properly. I mean, yes, they get in trouble. But secretly? So proud.
I think I make a real meal maybe 3 times a week. The rest is leftovers or drunk food. (Like pizza rolls and french fries.)
I have definitely taken care of my kids while a bit drunk.
I have tattled on my husband to my kid because I know she’ll give him more shit than I ever could.
OK, let’s be real for a moment. Parenting is hard. We all screw up, at least occasionally. The fact that we recognize these things aren’t actions we should be celebrating but hanging out head in shame for means we are trying. And that’s the most important part of parenting: trying. As my husband says, It’s not whether or not you do something well. It’s that you keep trying.
You don’t have to be amazing at everything you do, you just have to be willing.
(He says that about our sex life. But whatever, it works here, too. Ba dum tss.)
How ’bout it, Mamas? What do you have to confess?