Eight Mommy Confessions That Will Make You Feel Better About Your Own Parenting

Sharing really isn't caring, and other dirty little mom secrets

“If I’m eating or drinking something I don’t want to share, I say it’s too spicy.”

In a post promoting her new novel Confessions of a Domestic Failure, Bunmi Laditan listed her top five mom confessions. As usual, Bunmi nailed it with her signature mix of honesty, humour, and self-deprecation. I admit, too spicy is my go-to as well. It makes me seem less like a hypocrite than saying, “I don’t want to share. You definitely should, though, kiddo.”

I figure by the time they are old enough to figure out that not only am I a hypocrite, I am also a liar, they will be ready to hear, “Yeah, I just wanted to keep all the chocolate to myself. I would take a bullet for you, but this is my damn brownie.”

As usually happens after reading a Bunmi post, I started considering my own Mommy Sins. I offer them here in hopes of redemption. Or at least company in my handbasket:

1) If my four-year-old keeps getting out of bed, I tell him I am watching a scary show. “Yes, Big Bang Theory is really scary. You should go back to bed quickly before another scary part.” Am I proud of it? No (more lies).

2) “The bread is expired” means I don’t feel like making toast right now. Eat your cereal.

3) Splash pads count as a bath. So does the two-second shower after swimming lessons, even if I forgot the shampoo at home. Sprinklers too. If you get wet, it counts. If the cat could get better coverage when she licks you, I’d count that too.

4) My nine-year-old is a really great gofer. When I was a kid, and my parents would send me to go get stuff because “my legs were younger,” I swore when I had kids, I would never make them do that. I lied. This is the best perk of having kids, and anyone who says it’s not is either lying or missing out. Of course, I send him to get me stuff—his legs are younger.

5) I don’t care about a single thing that happened, is happening, or will ever happen in Minecraft. None of it. I don’t even know why it is called Minecraft. And I can only pretend I care about this never-ending story for so long before I have to change the subject or rip off my ears and throw them at him. I would legitimately rather have the sex talk than discuss building lava or whatever it is that happens in Minecraft.

6) I swear like a mofo. I don’t care that my kids hear it. They know they are “grown up words” and that they are not allowed to use them yet. Like coffee, alcohol, and crossing the street alone, they are not allowed to use curse words until they are old enough to know how to use them responsibly. In the meantime, I hope they are taking notes because I am really, really good at it.

7) I keep yogurt in the fridge in order to gauge the authenticity of my children’s hunger. “Oh, you just ate dinner but you’re still hungry? There’s yogurt in the fridge.” If they don’t eat the yogurt, the sudden hunger is likely due to noticing the ice cream in the grocery bag their dad just brought home. If they do eat the yogurt, they were actually hungry, but good news: they ate something healthy, so problem solved!

8) I force my oldest son to watch my beloved childhood 80s and 90s movies with me. They are dated, boring, and as it turns out, largely inappropriate for children (Adventures in Babysitting, I'm looking at you). But he is going to watch it, and if he doesn’t end up loving them the way I did as a kid, he can at least gain an appreciation for the HD of his own childhood favourites.

This is the point of the article where most writers end with, “And my final Mommy Confession is that I love all of this and I wouldn’t trade any of this chaos for the world.” But I’m not going to do that. That’s just cheesy and everyone knows it’s just a disclaimer for all the awful things said above. I own my confessions. This parenting thing is a jungle, and you do what you gotta do. Perfect parents who have committed no sins are free to get together and throw stones to their hearts’ content. I’ll be over here with Bunmi, eating spicy butter tarts and watching scary sitcoms.

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