Every mom has had secret thoughts about motherhood that they would never share with others. We’ve asked some of our readers to confess a few they’ve had – do you identify?
Sometimes I don’t like my child very much.
I’m hoping that it’s an age and stage issue, but I think my daughter is rude and cheeky. If I were to meet her, I definitely wouldn’t be impressed.
I worry non-stop that something bad will happen to my children.
So many of my friends have said that they weren’t able to watch horror movies, thrillers or any film where children are hurt after they had kids. I’ve taken this one step further: whenever I hear about something bad in the news, I worry that it could happen to my children. I’ve become obsessed -no matter how unlikely they are – a nuclear holocaust, AI robots taking over the world, civil war…
I wish my son had been a girl.
My sister and I grew up very close, in a female-dominated household. I somehow imagined my family would be the same, so when I was told I was having a son, I was disappointed. I’ve adored my boy since the moment he was born, but I sometimes wonder what it would have been like to have two daughters.
I’ve imagined what it would be like to raise my children as a single mom.
Obviously I love my husband, but sometimes (usually after we’ve had a fight or if a visit to my in-laws is imminent) I wonder what it would be like to be able to raise my kids without his input – using my own discipline techniques, never having to think of what to cook him for supper…
I worry that my rage is psychopathic.
I know all moms feel irritated sometimes, and everyone gets cross occasionally. But I worry that my temper is set off by things that other mothers wouldn’t find a big deal, and often my reactions seem disproportionate to the offense.
I’ve breastfed my toddler long past the point I’m comfortable with because I’m too scared to stop.
Scared of her reaction, I mean – I made the terrible mistake of feeding her to sleep when she was a tiny baby, and by the time she was 18 months, the habit had become so entrenched I didn’t know how to break it. I don’t know how to get her to sleep without feeding her and every time I tell her she must stop, she cries – it seems easier just to continue.
I resent my husband. A lot.
His parenting approach is sometimes best described as ‘fly-in’ parenting – he swoops in to let me know what I’m doing wrong, but has very little input the rest of the time. It feels as though his life has changed very little, but mine is unrecognisable. And how come he gets to take off an entire day for golf, when the world would fall apart if I did the same?
I think other people’s kids are less talented and clever than my own.
And I feel very sorry for them.