Nothing Like Having Your Head Slammed in the Door by a Toddler

Why do they hate me so much? Sometimes I feel like an indentured servant ruled by three tiny people who hate me. There is nothing quite like being screamed at while wiping butts.

…Except for maybe getting your head slammed in a French door by a freakishly strong 2-year-old.

….Except for maybe getting your head slammed in a closet door the very next day by the same freakishly stong two-year-old. (It’s weird: he’s not angry. He is like the Hulk without the anger.)

Seriously, moms have to do all these seriously nasty chores – on repeat – while little people yell at us about it. That feeling is magnified when there are three little people.

Why are you so mad when you have to let someone clean your bottom? Why are you so mad when you have to let someone fix you a delicious and nutritious meal? Wash your cellulite? Console your sadnesses and rock you to sleep and kiss your boo-boos? Sometimes it feels like pure hell to do all these things while they yell at me, or scream at me, or cry at me. Times three.

jumping on bedI know, I know, I know – they are growing up so fast and one day I will regret complaining about any of it. One day, soon, they won’t need me to wipe their butts. One day, soon, my snuggles and my kisses aren’t going to fix their bigger boo-boos. I know I will miss their innocence and their fat chubby toddler arms.

I know, I know, I know – I waited eight years for these babies. I survived adoption and 15 rounds of fertility drugs and bedrest and miscarriage and hemorrhage to get these three precious souls into my arms. How could I possibly complain about a single thing?

Because. Because none of that means it’s FUN to be kicked at when I’m trying to change their poops. It’s not sweet to get yelled at while fixing lunch not fast enough. It’s not adorable to get pummeled while trying to hug an upset child. Moms get beat up and knocked around more than they ever thought they would.

My kids are good kids. They are sweet and considerate and mostly obedient. They are also two years old, and two years old, and four years old. Sometimes, being two and being four isn’t pretty. Sometimes it isn’t sweet. They get frustrated. They get overwhelmed. It’s hard to be a toddler. And have you ever heard of a “mean drunk”? Well, some kids are a “mean sick” or a “mean injured”. (And some kids are just The Hulk without the anger. There’s a lot of testosterone in this house.)

I just wanted you to know that I feel like the ugly stepsister sometimes, just in case you do too.


This post was originally published on Beyond Infertility, a website about parenting after infertility. I am a regular contributor to their website.


8 thoughts on “Nothing Like Having Your Head Slammed in the Door by a Toddler

  1. Attempt #3 at commenting! Kids have at least been laid in their beds so there is hope of an uninterrupted thought!

    With an almost 2 year old daughter an a 4 year old son I can very much relate. I hear over and over how I need to treasure this time and I want to take those people and have them come spend a day. I am pretty sure they have forgotten how hard it can be. Last week I had a day where my daughter cried herself to sleep because she asked for juice and I… gave her some. Two days later she started a tantrum and throwing her lunch on the floor because she asked for water and I… gave her some. I am trying to figure out what I am supposed to treasure! Most days are just one long fight. Either separating the two of them, fighting to get them to do something, fighting to get them to stop doing something, fighting to hold onto any shred of sanity…

    I am in the same boat where we worked a long time and went through a lot to be able to adopt them. I feel guilty even complaining, but the reality is no matter how hard we worked for our children, motherhood still is tough!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. They will get older and then when one calls at 11:30 pm and talks for an hour and a half – or rather cries on your shoulder because he and his girlfriend of two years have broken up and he blames himself – yeah they do that – you will wish for those younger days. 😦 boys are always closer to their mothers it seems. ~Elle


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