I call this 'forced fun'.
You have this lovely, picturesque vision in your head before children come along of how delightful your life is going to be with them. Picnics in the woods, chasing them around play parks whilst playing pirates, doing super fun day trips where you make lots of memories. But it's all a load of crap. Because the reality of it goes like this:
Parent: Where are your shoes?
Child: I don't know. Can I have pancakes for breakfast?
Parent: What do you mean you don't know? Where did you put them?
Child: Not sure. I want pancakes.
Parent: I don't have time to make pancakes. We're going to Legoland and need to leave. Go find your shoes.
Child: But muuuuuuuum! I really wanted pancakes! You said we could make pancakes this weekend!
Parent: I don't have time this morning! Legoland. Shoes. Go!
Child: Will there be pancakes at Legoland?
Parent: I don't know.
Child: I don't wanna go if there's no pancakes.
Parent: Legoland will be lots of fun. Of course you want to go. They have lots of rides there.
Child: I don't want rides. I WANT PANCAKES!!!
Parent: AND I WANT YOU TO FIND YOUR SHOES!
Child starts crying.
Parent wants to start crying.
Child: You promised. You're a liar. I want a new mummy!
Parent: Well we'll search for one on eBay later. Can we please just get out the door and leave?
Child: But I don't know where my shoes are!
Parent: Where did you last see them?
Child: I don't know! I had them at ballet class.
Parent: That was on Tuesday. It's Saturday. Where did you put them after ballet?
Child: I DON'T KNOW!
This pattern will follow you for the rest of the day. You will repeat numerous phrases such as:
"Get down from there!"
"No you can't have another balloon - I told you to hold on to it tight and you didn't. So tough."
"You're too small for that ride."
"No you can't have another ice cream."
"No I can't make them come out and sing that song again."
"No, I can't make the queue go down any faster."
"No, we can't just walk to the front of the queue."
"No, we can't live in Legoland."
"No, they don't have any flippin pancakes!"
And you will stress yourself out beyond comprehension trying to make the day fun, when really all that's happening is everyone's miserable, tired, frustrated and whining. You get to the point where all you want to do is go home, despite the fact you've had to flog your spleen to buy the bloody park tickets. But you can't just leave. Oh no. Because your child has firmly attached themselves to a Lego windmill in mini land and is loudly screaming, "I want to stay HERE!"
And it's on the way home, after you've spent 20 minutes wrestling the little cherub into the car, whilst they've pitched a fit with extra leg flailing usually found only in a River Dance jig, that you realise staying home and making pancakes would have been so much fucking simpler.
You're not alone, OP. Children can bring a tremendous amount of joy to your life. But the other 98% of the time is, unfortunately, usually shadowed by a whole heap of utter cack that makes your eye twitch and your hand reach for that bottle of anesthetic chilling in the fridge...
The good news is - you all laugh about it later 