Give me your worst parenting stories

I need them. For my mental health.

And no, not the stories of other horrible people messing up—the stories of good, virtuous you messing up.

I need to know that you can be a good parent and still deeply, deeply suck at it, at times. Today, for instance. When I yelled so loudly at my son that my throat still hurts. (Did you know that mittens are an instrument of torture? That socks are painful? Neither did I, until I met Henry.) Thank god I don't have a deadline tonight because I need this glass of wine. And I need to go to bed before 8. And wake up in a few years, when he's able to dress himself.

Speaking of deadlines, a new Wonderland is up!

And now it's time for you to share your Stories of Parental Ineptitude. I know you won't let me down.

Now that I think of it, I'm holding a contest. The Parental Ineptitude tale that amuses me most will win...something. I haven't thought that through yet. My deep and abiding respect? Something like that. I need to have more wine and think about it.

Comments

[SAndi]

Yes, socks can be an instrument of torture, just ask my daughter, who at seven has tried every brand and type of sock. I once drove all over looking for socks I had heard about that had hand sewn seams. I cried when she cried that even THEY huuurrrrttt. We actually have had several threatening notes from the school saying they were going to have a social worker call us if we couldn't get my daughter to school on time. How do you explain to the school its the SOCKS AND TENNIS SHOES?!?!

Once after having my second child, I was breastfeedind and I had a raging case of PPD. I was sitting there, unwashed, with a hungry baby on my boob, and when my daughter came over and touched me, I screamed so loudly that the scream was HORSE and my throat hurt STOP FUCKING TOUCHING ME! She cringed, and whimpered "I just wanted to give you a kiss" ran away and cried in her room. Yeah I felt like the asshole of the year.

Or the time I fell asleep and forgot to pick her up from school. But, she got me back. She informed all the administration who were there to pity the poor girl who was forgotten by her mom that I had a something wrong with my brain (depression how I described it to her) that made me sleep a lot and yell a lot, but I was taking medicine for it, and I probably just fell asleep. I was mortified.

[Jenna]

By accident, I left one of my daughter's name off of the Christmas card this year. They went out to everyone we know or have ever known. I'm sure it made everyone feel much better about themselves in comparison.

[anne]

My 2 year old got upset when we left the park because she wanted to swing some more, and started to crhine (cry/whine) as I buckled her into the car seat. I started out sympathetic but firm, which moved to annoyed and snappy, then desperate and slightly hysterical. I finally crossed over to the dark side by turning around in the driver seat and screaming, "I'll give you something to cry about!" (yes I really did say that) and slapping her on the leg (and yes I really did do that). I didn't hurt her, but it scared her. And did it stop the crying?? Absolutely not. And I am deeply ashamed of it. And...my throat hurts more often than I like to admit.

[Jenn @ Juggling Life]

I'm still pretty ambivalent about whether or not this is actually bad parenting (it had its intended effect), but it definitely falls under the category of extreme. When my now 13 year old daughter was about 5, we had a difference of opinion about whether or not she could wear a particular pair of pants somewhere. The backstory about why I cared is long and involved; suffice it to say I was right. My daughter is, without a doubt, the most stubborn, persistent child on the face of the earth. We are sure this will stand her in good stead as an adult, provided we allow her to survive her childhood. Anyway, long story somewhat short: When she refused to remove the pants, I got my scissors and cut them off her. That's right, I cut the pants off. We've argued about a lot of clothing since then, but never again about those pants!

[Kelly]

When Ty was 4, we lived in upstate NY and a big tornado storm came through one night. We gathered everything we thought we needed (phone, water, cookies and a flashlight to go outside so we could access the basement.) The storm intensified (massive thunder and lightning and golf ball sized hail) and I ran outside and into the basement without anyone. Without my child. Thank goodness his father was there to scoop him up and uh... possibly safe his life. Because I apparently wasn't sticking around to see what happens. They both still make fun of me for that one.

[Dory]

Oh Good Lord; where would I even start?! I smell blog fodder. I'll post my story(stories?) within the next couple days on my blog. You'll feel like Mother of the Year!

[dianne]

I wish I could help you. Truly.But I've never, ever: yelled at my child; spanked my child; thought negative and not-very motherly thoughts about my child; been exasperated by my child; wondered where the hell is child came from, anyway?; been embarrassed by my child; wanted to strangle my child just a wee, tiny bit; cursed at my child; cursed about my child; made up new curse words just for my child; lost my temper/mind/patience at my child.

Also, I have no children.

[raych]

I nannied for a year (let me repeat that: for just a YEAR, and they weren't even MINE, and I got to hand them off at 4:30 EVERY DAY!) and I figure on the whole I was a great nanny, but when the youngest (1.5 yrs) refused to stick with us in the mall/walking down the street/wherever we were going, I would grab the oldest (2.5) and dart around the nearest corner. While she quietly wept into my shoulder that she wanted to go and get her brother, I would watch with glee as he realized that yes, we were GONE! Ha ha, suck it, child! If you don't stay with us, WE WILL LEAVE! YOU WILL BE ALONE!!! FOREVER!!! And then when he started crying I would reappear, and very calmly tell him that he had to hold my hand.I can't wait to have my own kids.

[MG]

I'm not a mom but I babysat cousins for several summers -- my youngest cousin HATED having her hair washed and during one particularly frustrating weekend babysitting sesh I finally commanded her out of the bathtub after some prolonged whining and told her she was "despicable." A FOUR-YEAR-OLD!

Also, when she was a baby, I forgot to snap her into her chair and she slipped out and fell off the TABLE. She's 21 and perfect now and I think I'm finally convinced I didn't break her.

[Mignon]

I think Dad Gone Mad wins.

[Victoria]

OK, my boys are now 30 and 23, and the youngest even survived last year as a gunner on top of a Humvee in Baghdad, but he'll never eat cauliflower. Ever. All because I pulled the "you will not go to the school fair until you eat this cauliflower with cheese sauce. Now" trick. He sat there for HOURS refusing to touch the stuff and never got to the fair. He could throw a toy across the room at nine months, one at his beloved grandmother--there went those toys in the trash. AND, I was so tired by the time he came along after his big brother and sister (now 28), that I put root beer in his baby bottle, just to keep him quiet. Or how about leaving him in his car seat in the driveway to take his nap? Not just once or twice, but many, many times... He was a difficult child, but the EASIEST going teenager ever and is my close friend. As for the now-30-year old--I once was so fed up with something, I can't remember what he was doing--that I emptied an entire pitcher of red koolaid on his head. He survived. They all do, and if a dislike for cauliflower is all that happened, then we are all so lucky.

[floreksa]

We moved A to a "big girl bed" last night. She's a little over 3. Threats of death were involved and are being lobbed again today, right now at nap time. Lord only knows what others are picking up over our baby monitors. DSS will probably be arriving soon.

We're all tired, its not pretty and right now we are not shining as parents.

[Kathy Davies]

I'm not a parent, but I spent so much time babysitting nephews and nieces as a teen that I certainly felt like one. They even called me 'Mama' in public!

So there was the horrible spanking because of the poopy pants while potty training, yelling when the brothers just couldn't stop hitting each other, etc. But my prized moment came when, after a full day of being a little sh*t, (back talking, hitting, pushing, etc), I told my 5 (I think) year old nephew to go to his room and, after the 3rd time, when he still hadn't done it, I picked up the bowl I was making cookie dough in and slammed it to the table so hard it broke. This was a very heavy mixing bowl passed down from my grandmother to my mother, largest of a set of 3. My arms hurt for 2 days from the shock of the hit and I still don't think I got what I deserved. I should have been hauled off and beaten. But...I didn't hurt him, didn't spank him, just picked him up and put him in his room, closed the door and cried.

Beautiful moment. I'm so proud. I still wonder if, at 30, he remembers it. But I don't want to ask.

[Jennifer]

I am not a parent, but I remember one from my own childhood. When I was 16 and my sister 17, we concocted some lie to my parents to get out of the house for the night and of course my parents found out. During our lecture that night my dad (who NEVER yelled) punched a hole in the wall and told us we were lucky that it didn't land in our faces. I never thought he was a bad dad for it though, we deserved that one.

[abi]

Oh, how I needed to read this today. Last night I had an incredible, mortifying meltdown at my two-year-old. (I should mention that I'm 20 weeks pregnant with number 3, exhausted, and off my Effexor for the pregnancy, so this is not by any means my first tantrum - just the most recent.) Noah is only recently out of his crib and in a big boy bed, and now that the novelty of the new bed has worn off, all the child wants to do is get out of bed every four seconds. It doesn't help that he thinks our admonitions to Get back in that bed! Right now! or spanks on the back of his hand are just part of this exciting new game; and last night, when my husband had to work late and I was putting the kids to bed singlehandedly, I did a lot of screaming myself hoarse and - oh, I am so proud of this - holding him down by his shoulders to make him stay in his bed. Worked like a charm, of course.

When my husband finally got home at 10:30, I was a weeping ball of shame and frustration on the couch downstairs, and Noah was still awake, wandering around his room.

I'm so glad I'm not the only mom with these stories. And at least he's too young to remember this incident in enough detail to tell his therapist about it someday.

[Sonia]

I had my 9 month old sitting in his car seat, sitting on top of a small shopping cart from the fabric shop. I had just unloaded everything from the cart into the car and was bringing the cart (still with baby on top) back to the shop. I was moving really, really fast - almost running - because he had a cold (perpetual snot kinda cold) and it was beginning to rain, so I didn't want him to get wet. About halfway there the front wheels of the cart hit a pot hole that in my hurry to avoid the rain, I missed. The front end of the cart flew up and out of my hands and my baby (in the carseat, thank God) flew through the air and ended up face down on the pavement. I don't even remember the seconds that went by between the cart leaving my hands and flipping over the carseat to see what condition my baby was in. Thankfully, he was okay. Scared and crying, but not a scratch on him. As a side note, I refuse to ever shop at the fabric store again because the ladies that were working there stood at the window and watched with their hands over their mouths. Not ONE of them came out to see if he was okay or to take the cart back into the store. I carried him and the carseat and took the damn cart back into the store (looking back I don't know why I didn't just leave it upside down in the parking lot). By the time I got to the door the ladies had walked away - acting as if they hadn't been watching - and left me to open the door by myself and shove the cart inside with the baby and carseat in my hands. I'm such a sucker for not at least saying something mean to them. I mean, come on, why on earth would anyone watch something like that and NOT come out to help?! Anyways, the whole way home I cried while my my little boy sat in the back seat happily eating graham crackers. Mother of the year - that's me.

[tamara]

Back in June, I nearly crushed our 6-month old son underneath a closing automatic garage door. Oh, he was securely strapped into his infant car seat (that I thought was securely attached to his stroller when I, for a lark, pretended to run at the door as it was closing. Because I'm funny, that's why.)

Were it not for his father's quick thinking and large, muscular legs that he wedged at the last second between the door and the floor, Jack would surely have suffered more than just the large raspberry on his left cheek acquired when his father yanked him, car seat and all, out from beneath the door. Which had begun to crush the seat. Which was a Primo Viaggio from Peg Perego, and withstood the pressure. Thank God.

What did I learn from this incident? Always check and make sure Jack's securely fastened to anything that I will send hurtling towards imminent doom.

[H]

There was the long trip home by train, just me and the boy (2), during which my son continued to get more and more wound up as the evening progressed. Around 10pm I just wanted him to sleep so I could sit quietly and read something, and he didn't want to sleep -- he wanted to kick the back of the seat in front of us. I hauled off and slapped his bottom, once, and said "stop that you need to sit still and go to sleep!"

He stared at me in disbelief for a second, then started to wail. "Hurt diaper! Hurt butt! Be nice!" which I'm sure the entire train full of people heard. Then he cried.

The hurt diaper part makes me laugh now, and we have conversations about "being nice" which can be helpful. I'm still sorry I hit him.

[Suniverse]

*When I pinched my then 4 or 5 year old daughter while we were in line at the grocery store and made her cry because she wouldn't stop talking/yammering/whatever. I spent the drive home crying on the phone to my therapist because I felt I needed anger management classes and/or foster care for my daughter (she nicely calmed me down and told me to RELAX). I still get sick thinking about it.

*When my kid had a 100+ temp for 4 days before I took her to the doctor.

*When I screamed at her last week for forgetting to bring our flipflops for the pool. Screamed all the way home (10+ minutes) and for another 10 or 15 in the house.

Wow. I need to think happy thoughts.

[Laural]

I recently got so fed up with my 3 year old daughter not going to sleep that I shut her door and wouldn't let her out. It wasn't until my husband came up, gently pried my hand off the doorknob and opened the door that I realized my daughter had been screaming because her night light wasn't on. The poor thing is afraid of the dark, and I was the one who had locked her in a pitch black room, rendering her terrified. My husband crawled in bed with her and she finally went to sleep. I felt so horrible after that.

[Laylabean]

I put mine on my blog because it's long and involves thermometers in the bad place. Besides, why humiliate myself only for your readers when I can include mine as well?

Cheers!

[Vicki]

most certainly socks are a torture device. Mine absolutely could not wear tube socks...no discussion would sway his mind. And there were "certain" socks who's toes seam would drive him to madness and in time, me too. But he grew up and it more or less normal. Which is what you want me to tell you right? LOL Plus now he is a dad banging his head against the wall try to figure out how to be a good parent. Me?... will I sit quietly and smile. Life is good!

[KG]

i dont have any kids of my own, but i do have an older half-brother from my mom's first marriage and arguably to world's best bad-good-mother story. after my mom and her then-husband split up, she took care of my brother by herself and worked full-time. one morning, in a rush to get to daycare and then work, she carried him out to her car in his little portable car seat, set the car seat on the roof of the car so she could put her purse, etc in the passenger seat, got in the car, and reversed out of her parking spot. with the baby on the roof. i mean, we've all done it with a soda from 7-11...but a baby!?! (don't worry, he stayed put up there and got the ride of his life for a second or two...)

[kate]

Oh my god, these are so damn funny; they should be a book. Seriously we NEED to share these stories to keep us sane and know we're not alone. That's why I love Anne Lamotte's book "Operating Instructions."

One of my worst: thinking that it would help my 3 yo go to sleep if I stood on the other side of the door and held it shut while she tried to open it, while yelling at the top of my lungs "Go to bed NOW!!!!"

EOMama, I peed a little over "Mommy drinks because you cry." Thank you for sharing that.

[Mrs. Gregorton]

How about the time I accidentally closed my baby's head in a cedar chest? I was looking for something...curtains? towels? a good night's sleep?...and she pulled herself up on the edge as I rummaged around. Unbeknownst to me, the lid was not secured and it came slamming down on her head. I feel sick just thinking about it. I cried so hard she was wiping my tears and holding the ice-pack on my head. So now that I think of it, that's two parenting blunders in one! awesome.

Great blog! I just found it through the Wellesley magazine.