Grab a glass of wine, two, three or four (I’m not condoning alcohol abuse of any kind) and relinquish all feelings of guilt concerning your right as a parent to complain!

I hear the parents that view telling the realities of parenting is complaining. And while none of us want to feel like we are whiners who complain about the great joys we have been blessed with or to seem as if we are somehow ungrateful, there’s something therapeutic about being able to acknowledge your feelings.

You start out with the line of “I couldn’t imagine my life without them”, which of course I couldn’t and why would you at this point? However, let’s break down a typical weekend with children and see what conclusions are drawn.

Friday evening the weekend begins by picking up the youngest two at daycare. Sometimes they are happy to see you, sometimes not so happy. If it is the not so happy time they may ignore you as if you are some perverse stranger they have never seen before. If they do acknowledge you on a happy to see you day, they may begin to ask you for things like gum or a new bike. Yes their desires can vary from minor to major.

Then there is a trip to the grocery store. We must get the car buggy or there will be major breakdown. Doesn’t matter if you must run, steal or deal with a soak and wet one, you must get the race car buggy. If all goes well in the store, there will be nothing broken or heads turned in the direction of high pitch screaming or pinches or jabs exchanged from two kids being trapped too closely in the buggy.

Then there is an hour to pick up the oldest. While he can be very helpful with the younger ones, he can also add to the chaos and easily make it worse. Informing can quickly become tattle tailing at it’s worst and with boys there can be borderline abuse towards the youngest without constant reminding of how little he is in comparison.

Saturday comes and one of my joys is sleeping in. There’s always one particular early riser in my house, however he has never found himself in trouble by himself other than some scattered cereal or crumbs from his morning hunger. I get to usually sleep til 8:30am which is heaven sent compared to my usual 6am risings. No complaints there with my kids now that they are older!

But once the day starts, it starts. There is the cooking, cleaning, laundry that begins and doesn’t end until Sunday evening. There is the instructing, the breaking up fights, the “don’t talk backs”, the searching for things that are lost, the locating outfits, the bathing, the preparation of activities and things to do.

In the summer we are good because it’s pool time, and minus of the worrying over snacks and foods (who gets what and when) it’s not too hellacious. They usually don’t want to leave which can be a struggle and there are the possible exhaustion tantrums (usually not coming from me) but it is well worth a day of them being occupied.

Then it’s back to the house for more meal preparation and dishes to clean up. Gotta get the chlorine out of that hair, so more baths. Maybe we can relax just long enough to watch a family movie. There’s usually at least one spilled drink and popcorn along with a “guys sit down, watch the movie and stop the pillow fighting”.

Finally by 10pm I’m so tired that when my head hits the pillow, an earthquake couldn’t wake me. That is until 2am whimpering comes from the bedroom after someone has peed in the bed. The same guilty party has a habit of eating too much and vomiting, especially when he’s chosen to sleep with his older brother. There’s nothing like mopping up urine or vomit, giving more baths and doing laundry at 2am.

Sunday is the same but usually not as tiring because I try and make it a point to stay put. No worrying over fixing hair, picking out outfits or taking two hours to get in the car. There’s still of course still the usual messes to clean up and “gentle” reminders of “stop that!” throughout the day.

And while I will end this with some of the same sweet parent talk that is constantly around us that speaks of the joy of hearing their laughter, the fascination you experience as you watch them grow and the warm fuzzies that you get as they cling to your every word and leg for that matter, I will still say that parenting is the hardest yet most invisible job going and anyone that doesn’t speak the truth about it is in denial or at the least doing it an injustice.