When You're Not the Parent They Choose

I see a LOT of content surrounding the difference between moms vs. dads. A LOT of it is in regards to how much more can tend to fall on the mom (or just the “main” parent in a partnership. I know this can sometimes be dad or partner, too.) I relate to most of it (the mental load, the schedule keeping, the house maintenance, the overthinking and loss of sleep, fuck, the damn PREGNANCY and being the actual vessel that brings this child into the world). It’s all so relatable. I feel the weight of these pressures all day long, even when I’m not with my children, even though I also have a job. Even when I should be sleeping.

But one part I sometimes do not get the luxury of relating to is being the parent that they always choose.

“No… DADDY” is what I hear when I open my two year olds door after an afternoon nap. A nap that I’ve meticulously scheduled into the day while factoring in exactly what time he needs to go down in reference to what time we need to leave for big brothers soccer, a snack time that won’t ruin dinner, and getting to bed on time.

“I want dad to do it,” my four year old whines as I begin to shovel dinner onto his plate. A dinner that I planned, grocery shopped for, and (usually, but not always, I’m not a martyr here people) prepared for him.

“I want dad to take me to school,” while he’s carrying the backpack I ordered for him filled with the paperwork I filled out and the lunch I packed for him.

I hear this from my four year old in the morning, when he realizes that dad left for work before he woke up, all the way until bed time, when my four year old wants one last hug from his dad.

Don’t get me wrong. Sometimes it’s nice AF to be the parent no one chooses. To say ‘hey fuck it’, you get him his glass of water. I didn’t want to have to get up from this chair anyways. Or sure, ‘I’ll skip bath time’.

But if I’m being brutally honest (which is the whole point of this, anyways) it hurts my fucking feelings. And it pisses me off. Who bought every single Christmas present last year? ME. Who planned and executed the birthday parties? Yep. Me again. Who organized the Halloween costumes and ensured trick or treating happened? ME AGAIN. Who signed them up for camp? (Okay actually my husband did the the sign up forms for camp. But I asked him to. I forwarded the email link to him). What I’m saying is, I have a hand in EVERY aspect of their little lives. But they keep throwing that hand back in my face.

“Move away, mom,” my two year old just learned how to say. Literally.

Now, I have 3 kids. I’m not always the one they don’t choose, and certainly not by all 3 of them at once. But I’m chosen less. And I’m constantly questioning why.

Is it because I’m always distracted? Am I constantly thinking of what needs to happen or what we’re doing next during my moments with my kids? Because I guarantee my husband isn’t thinking about what he’s gonna feed them for dinner while they’re eating their breakfast. But I am. And maybe they can tell. Maybe their little minds know it. They don’t see the mental load I’m carrying. They only see my glazed over eyes that are a direct result of carrying it. I don’t want to be distracted. I want to be fun. But I don’t know how to mom any other way. What if I stop thinking ahead? Will everything fall apart? Or will they just choose me?

So if your baby didn’t choose you for story time tonight mamas, just remember, they don’t see everything that you’re doing for them. But I do. And some day, they’re going to realize all of the work you put in, even if doesn’t feel that way now. I mean, let’s be honest, when you think back to your childhood, who raised you? My dad was there every day, but my mom was raising me. And I remember, just like our ungrateful babies will some day. Right???