Parenting
It’s not like I was caught off guard; the signs have been apparent for a while now. I suppose I was just clinging to the hope that this was merely a phase, that my son would come around or at the very least show a bit more respect. I may project a tough exterior, but deep down, I’m as fragile as anyone else. Right now, I feel a mix of betrayal and bitterness. I understand this is all part of the parenting journey, but it still stings. I like to think there are still people out there who appreciate my company. I can be quite the fun parent when the mood strikes!
My little guy has clearly moved on. His constant requests to play with Max from down the street are a daily reminder. “Can I go to Max’s house? Can Max come over? Can you call his mom to set up a playdate?” This chorus repeats every five minutes.
I get it; Max is more exciting than I am. He plays with toy cars, while my ability to engage in imaginative play fizzled out when I hit my teenage years. No matter how hard I try to tap into that playful spirit, it just doesn’t work. I realize that well-meaning strangers might say, “Enjoy these moments; they grow up so fast!” But I beg to differ.
I do engage in other activities, though. I read stories, play catch, bake cookies, ride bikes, and facilitate art projects. I can even drive him to fun places like the park or the local pool.
“No more trips to Costco! It’s soooo boring!” he complains. It wasn’t long ago that he loved shopping with me, enjoying our time together without the need for distractions or bribes. Now, I feel like I’m auditioning for the role of “Fun Parent” every day, sitting across from him and desperately trying to prove my worth while silently chastising poor Max in my mind.
Last week, I sat there and let him bomb me with 60 water balloons. Yes, you read that right. After the cold, drenching onslaught, I didn’t even get a hug or a towel—just a disappointed little soul looking for a true playmate. To top it off, I crafted a personalized car wash from an old cardboard box for him. It took an hour to make, and he played with it for all of seven minutes before asking, “Can I go to Max’s house now?”
“Not today, buddy.”
“Well, can you have a baby brother for me?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because Mommy has reached her limit in terms of babies.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means Mommy’s heart is full.”
Even if I were to consider another child (which I absolutely do not), that baby would soon be growing up and heading off to school, leaving me feeling even more abandoned. I can’t keep having babies—they’re painful, and they cost a fortune!
With only a month left before summer break brings more chaos and the other kids who have moved on from me, I feel an impending sense of pressure. My son’s future is filled with playdates and adventures with Max, while mine feels uncertain.
I have feelings, too! Who will be my Max when I want to play cars?
Forget the advice, kind stranger.
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