I think that most of us would be comfortable admitting that there are times, hopefully rare, that we just don’t really like our significant other very much. It’s usually short-lived, oftentimes not even really about them, and then we go back to having all the fuzzy feelings that attracted us to them in the first place.
What I learned this weekend, what people would be more hesitant to admit, is that there are also going to be days when it’s possible to not really like your kid very much also. Not angry at them, not frustrated or disappointed, I’m talking about days when you start googling European boarding schools and wondering if the stork has a return policy.
I’m horribly biased, but my daughter is generally nothing but a pleasure to be around. She’s polite, sweet, and handles disappointment well. She’s been angry and overtired before, but I honestly can’t remember a time in the last five years when she has thrown what would be classified as a proper tantrum.
Sunday she was a monster.
She was a rude, fresh-mouthed, argumentative little brat who insisted on having the last word in any conversation, usually at the top of her lungs. She refused to eat anything except nachos, threw her tablet, tormented the dog, and I’m pretty sure she only came downstairs occasionally so that she could then run back upstairs crying and slamming her door. The only time she was quiet for more than a few minutes, she was turning baby Elsa into a zombie.
I think what upset me the most was how unappreciative she came across. Her biggest complaint was that she didn’t want to spend the entire day at home. She wanted to go someplace fun because she “never gets to do anything.” She didn’t want to play with her toys because they are all “lame.” Acting like a brat is one thing, acting like a spoiled brat is something else entirely. At various points throughout the day I threatened to give all of her toys away to underprivileged children, send all of our food to starving kids in Africa, and just to make sure that I hit all of the old parent cliches, give her something real to cry about.
To be fair, I was a bit cranky myself. I woke up with a terrible headache, exacerbated by the ass-kicking my football team was taking in a game that they really needed to win. It wasn’t intended to be funny, but we did get a good laugh when she came down with a fully packed duffel bag and demanded to be taken to grandma’s house.
Monday morning everybody was back to their typical sunshiny selves. Whatever her problem was seems to have resolved.
The reality is that some days as a parent are going to be easier than others, and that’s OK. Some days you might not even like your kid very much, and that’s probably OK too.
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A version of this post was previously published on ThirstyDaddy and is republished here with permission from the author.
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Talk to you soon.
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Photo credit: Jeremy Barnes