In my bed, there are two adults, two children, and two dogs, all vying for space. A small corner of the comforter barely covers me, and it’s poking me in the face. I twist my body, wrapped in sheets, trying to check the time. It’s 6:18 a.m. I might as well get up.
But as I glance at the sleeping twins nestled between my partner and me, I’m captivated. They are so peaceful and still—something so rare. When did they grow into such long-legged kids? With their eyes closed, I can still see their baby faces, reminiscent of the days when they were swaddled tightly in blankets. My heart swells with love for them.
And then, of course, they wake up.
Thus begins the daily struggle.
Every day, I face resistance over getting dressed. Today, one child wants to toss her pajamas into the laundry, while I prefer keeping them out for another wear. She cries and screams, leading me to put her in time-out, stark naked. It’s moments like these that make me feel like a terrible mother.
The twins, meanwhile, shove the 2-year-old as she enters their room, prompting her to cry. I attempt to comfort her while also disciplining the twins, who refuse to apologize. One of them bolts away, slips on the hardwood floor, and bangs her head, adding to the chaos. Now, I have yet another child in tears.
It’s only 20 minutes into my day, and everyone is either upset, sad, or undressed. I feel like a terrible mother.
After breakfast, the whining begins—this time about watching TV. The weather is lovely, and I desperately want to take them outside to play. As I clean up the kitchen, I refuse their TV request. One child responds with, “Then I will sit on the couch and wait for Daniel Tiger FOREVER!!!”
I threaten time-out and the possibility of never watching TV again, but the twins start arguing among themselves, drowning me out. They squabble over whether Olaf or Kristoff is the 2-year-old’s favorite character, and when she declares, “I love Sven!” they yell back, “No you DON’T!” causing her to cry yet again.
Their unkindness toward each other and disrespect towards me are overwhelming. I feel like a terrible mother.
They resist going outside, coming back inside, and at every transition—lunch, nap, and especially dinner. Why does everything feel like a battle? Why can’t I just complete one task without resistance?
Conflict makes me anxious. Before becoming a parent, I did everything I could to avoid it. But now, I face it daily, and I refuse to be the kind of mom who cannot say “no.” This constant conflict is wearing me down.
The bedtime struggle is often the worst. They resist going upstairs, refuse to be the first to use the bathroom, and argue over pajamas. They want to run with toothbrushes and read the longest book we own back to me—twice, because they are twins.
Yet, at 10 p.m., when they should be asleep but are still wide awake, they ask if they can sleep in Mom and Dad’s bed, and I say yes. It may not be the most comfortable arrangement, but I cherish these moments. They won’t be little forever, and soon enough, they won’t want to snuggle.
The fight is exhausting, but when I offer half my pillow to my little girl and she whispers that she loves me, all feelings of conflict dissipate. I know it will all start again tomorrow, and just thinking about it makes me weary. For now, the house is quiet. The girls are peaceful, smelling of strawberry shampoo, and I am overwhelmed with love.
I feel like a good mother. At least until they wake up.
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Summary
Parenting is a daily challenge filled with struggles over everything from clothing choices to bedtime routines. Despite the chaos, moments of love and connection with your children can make it all worthwhile, reminding parents of the fleeting nature of childhood.
Keyphrase
Parenting struggles
Tags
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