Why Doesn’t Anyone Tell You Being a Parent is so Freaking Hard?

Where the hell in all the books I read about becoming a parent was the chapter on how freaking hard it can be?

I never thought it would be so hard. I thought it sounded fun. That’s why we had four so close in age. It seemed like a great idea at the time. Before they could talk.

No one ever once said to me, having kids will literally tear your heart out of our body. You will experience feelings that you never even knew existed. You will lose so much sleep. And not because you’re up at night feeding babies, but because you will worry so damn much.

Everyone tells you how expensive kids are. I mean everyone. Even my OB told me to start thinking about finances. Um, why don’t you go ahead and just do your job down there and I’ll handle the rest. Thanks.

When I was a kid my feelings were hurt. And it sucked. It never feels good.

But when your kid has their feelings hurt, it’s so much worse. Like a bazillion times worse. It’s as if someone has literally ripped your heart out of your chest and is stabbing it with a fork. And there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.


I didn’t know what anxiety was until I had kids. There was nothing to be anxious about. But now, holy jaysus, I can stay up all night long sick with worry.

Missing chromosomes. Gender identity issues. Health scares. Bullies. Nightmares. Self-esteem.

Even the little things are hard. Like when they forget a book at school and can’t do their homework. I want to call the book maker at home and have them send me a picture of the pages so that I can help my child.

Or at the very least pay extra to have a set of all of the books at home, so that my little darling never has to go through the trauma brought on by them being so damn forgetful.

Oh no, but that’s frowned upon. Junior has to learn a life lesson from this. As I sit back and freak the hell out that he will grow up to be an incompetent mess because he needed my help and I didn’t help him.

Or when they forget their lunch at home and I have to worry all day long that they will starve to death. Not my baby. I’ll have to make them something special for dinner because they didn’t listen to me the tenth time I asked them to put their lunch in their bag.

A missed basket. A fumble. A strike out. A tumble off the balance beam.

I want to take it all away from them. I am well aware that they have to learn their own way through life. But it’s so painful to watch.

Just like most things in life, the good always outweighs the bad. Now I understand why people say I’ll sleep when I’m dead. At least that gives me something to look forward to.

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