God I’m in such a bad place with parenting.
I’m late 30s and have a 3 year old. The DC was fully planned and very much wanted. I’m married too. I work part time when he’s at nursery and have my DC the rest of the time. No family support.
I should also mention that I have a chronic physical illness with uncontrolled pain. Things most of you take for granted (standing up from the couch, playing on the floor with your kid) is a major difficulty for me. The pain is exhausting and will get worse with time. I didn’t have any health issues prior to having my child.
Toddler years are in full swing and I do think my DC is within the “normal” toddler range (I don’t have other kids to compare but no developmental issues etc) in terms of behaviour. Good days and bad, tiredness is a major trigger for tantrums and he is often difficult to please. Other times he’s chatty, funny and very loving. All in all, normal, I think.
The issue for me is that I feel stressed and overwhelmed 90% of the time. The tantrums and general behaviour makes me so stressed. He can get up in the morning, we’ll go down for breakfast and I’ll get a spoon for his cereal. Cue screaming tantrum because he was going to get the spoon.
Same with me sitting on the wrong part of the sofa, putting something in the sink that he wanted to put in, saying no to something. Maybe some of it is connected to him being at the age where he wants to be independent and be a big boy. But it’s bloody hard.
We get out daily, but the public tantrums are making me not want to go. It’s physically hard for me to pick him up from the ground when he’s thrown himself down.
I find my patience is wearing so thin at times. I dread waking up in the morning because it all has to begin again. Being touched all day, battling with him to just do simple day to day things, the physical strain it puts on me.
My DH knows how I feel but is of the opinion that this is part and parcel of having a toddler. I don’t get much time away from my DC (except when I’m at work), maybe 3 hours every other week when I pop out alone.
I don’t want to be this parent. I’m starting to shout, swearing under my breath, wishing that my life was different. I think about what it would be like without a child - the places I could go, the calmness I’d feel. Those thoughts make me feel so guilty and ashamed, which no doubt makes everything else worse.
I want to relax more, to remember how little he is and how my pain is nothing to do with him. I do my best but I’m failing terribly at this and I think he’d be better off without me. I try to look at his little hands and feet and compare them with mine so that I remember how much more growing up he has to do.
Will gladly accept any wisdom, insight or opinions.