Column,  Family

I love my kids but sometimes they’re little pieces of sh*t

by Jayvee Fernandez

 

Dear fellow parent,

I know right? Hard to believe that I’m putting this down in words. But you gotta admit, this is what goes on in our heads behind the picket fences. We always have to put the disclaimer when talking about our kids to our close friends and family. About them being the love of our lives. We would die for them. But it doesn’t excuse us from calling them little pieces of sh*t on a regular basis.

On the day I found out we were pregnant, I was a flurry of emotions. From being dumbfounded to worried to excited to fear of the future. But guess what? The one thing that wasn’t on my mind were the future emotions I would feel when my youngest would topple a 5 gallon water container on the newly grouted floor causing a mini-flood in the living room. Or the frustrations I feel with my eldest learning how to read. The list goes on. Some people call it emasculating that men aren’t allowed to express frustrations about parenting, but hey that’s one of the best things about the Internet today; it’s brought together parents struggling to keep it together.

And that’s why I am writing this, fellow parents. Because even if social media has brought us all together, what we end up seeing on our Instagram #FeedGoals are always just the best moments. The one adorable shot you see on Instagram took more than 20 takes behind the scenes because they just won’t sit still. (Don’t you just love the motion blur reduction on your smartphone camera?) The happy birthday greeting song you want recorded needed to be redone 5 times. (Just check all of these videos the candles are always half melted once they’re posted online.) And don’t get me started about tantrums in public.

Fellow parents, this next paragraph will attempt to mitigate everything I just said, because, as the Internet is our stage, we may get judged for the things we say in public. So like every disclaimer and fine print we read on packaging, this paragraph will serve exactly that purpose. I love my kids. I love it that both my boys can now converse with one another. And that my eldest is learning how to read. But being in love is mutually exclusive from them acting like little turds every now and then. And I guess that is fine.

My point is, someone needed to say it. Because other parents want to say it. But they are just waiting for someone else to say it. That they’re  the best little sh*ts in the world.

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