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

[elle]

I'll de-lurk on this one. I have 2. We adopted our son from Russia in September 2006. While in Moscow, waiting our exit from the country, we were playing on the bed in the hotel room and my son slid off the bed headfirst onto the floor. We hadn't even left the country with him and I'd already dropped him.

But the icing on my parenting cake was last spring when my son refused to come inside, lest move from the spot he was standing in and I yelled... no screamed (sore throat too) at him to get his butt in the house. I approached my child only to discover he'd had world's biggest diaper blowout and was afraid to move. What makes it better is the cause of the diaper blowout was because I had previously fed my child expired chocolate milk. I am still begging for forgiveness on that one.

[Angela]

Sadly, there are too many but one of the worst was when my son was 3 1/2 and I made him go shopping with me at H&M in Herald Square. He was hopping around on the down escalator and I kept telling him to settle down (later learning that he had no idea what that meant). He fell down near the bottom and (I later learned) was being sucked into the teeth at the end. I scooped him up, told him it was his own fault and made him stand in line with me because I wasn't leaving without my stuff. Even though he was crying pitifully and people were staring - I just told him to shut up. Actually I whispered it in his ear, trying not to make a further scene. On the way home sitting on the train I realized the escalator had left perfect teeth marks on his leg and drawn blood. Then I bought him a big bag of candy and begged God not to let it get infected.

But one of my favorite bad mom stories is when our babysitter in the 70's was driving me and my 4 year old brother somewhere in her van and my brother was standing on the front seat. We didn't use seat belts back then. She did a u-turn and when we got to the other side of the street he was gone. Fortunately, he had fallen onto the grassy area of a sidewalk.

[Em]

I can't wait to read all of the others.

The story that immediately came to mind was when my willful 6 year old was a willful 2 year old and refused to move when I was trying to pick up around her. I was already mad about something ( I don't even know what) and when she wouldn't move, I angrily grabbed the blanket up off the floor, the one she had been standing on. I can't remember if I knew she was on it or not, I was just being pissy and stompy and a huge asshole. All I remember is her little feet going out from under her.

In reality, we were both being bratty that day (albeit I was 26 years older and should have had my shit together) but in my mind, I am basically beating up a sweet little angel with wispy little pigtails and about 8 teeth altogether.

God, I feel like crap now. I better go read the other comments.

[Mauri]

I'll share one of my mom's:

She was taking my cat to the vet (I was 8 or 9) and the cat escaped into the desert. When I came home from school, she told me that she had given him to a nice old lady she had met at the vet's office. Since he hadn't been adjusting well to desert life, we had been discussing finding another home for him. I shed a few tears and went to bed.

Guess who was meowing at the front door the next morning?

[Kiera]

When my sister was little, she used to constantly whine to my mother for money. One afternoon, my mother got sick of it and offered her a quarter if she'd eat a whole raw onion. My sister made it through half of the onion before she had to quit. My mother gave her a dime. Trying not to laugh the whole time, of course. I'm not sure who comes off worse in this story - my mother for being devious like that, or my sister for being greedy and ninny enough to eat an onion for a lousy 25 cents.

[Kat]

Hmm. I once grabbed my Goddaughter's leg hard enough to leave a bruise, when on an airplane with her, and told her that if she didn't stop kicking the chair in front of her I was going to "rip her fucking leg off." That was about 5 years ago. My son is 2 now & he certainly tries me, but I've mellowed out a lot...a lot...

[Kat]

Hmm. I once grabbed my Goddaughter's leg hard enough to leave a bruise, when on an airplane with her, and told her that if she didn't stop kicking the chair in front of her I was going to "rip her fucking leg off." That was about 5 years ago. My son is 2 now & he certainly tries me, but I've mellowed out a lot...a lot...

[Glenn]

When my son was about 2 months old I'd placed him, in his car seat, inside a cart at the grocery store. We got through the checkout and as I picked up his car seat by the top he flipped forward into the cart, face first. I'd forgotten that I'd unfastened his belt... he was completely unhurt but the little old ladies at the checkout almost killed me.

[ShariMac]

I have many stories. Dear god, so many. But what I wanted to say here is what an older friend told me after I was a couple of years into the parenting gig. These are the words that changed my life:

"The question isn't whether we're going to mess up our kids, but HOW we're going to mess up our kids. Our parents messed us up, their parents messed them up. Someday, our kids will talk about all the things we did wrong: did we pay too little attention to them, or smother them? Were we overprotective, or did we let them harm themselves? Were we too angry, or did we keep all our emotions inside and screw them up that way? Whatever we did, they'll deal with it. Just like we've dealt with how our parents raised us."

Somehow, this took the pressure off for me. You mean, I don't have to worry so much? That I don't have to be perfect, or even try to be perfect? That my kids will likely be okay, regardless? And that maybe getting screwed up by our parents--whether in big ways or small--and then growing through it and from it is a big part of what life (and becoming a healthy, compassionate, interesting adult) is about? That that's part of the story of growing up?

What a relief!

You're not alone, sister.

[Vanessa]

About three weeks after my husband died, my daughter (then 7) and I were coming home on a Friday evening, after a long, exhausting week. On the way from the car to the front door, she tripped and got a scrape on her knee, which sent her into paroxysms of shrieking. I took her into the bathroom and tried to clean the scrape up and put on a Band-Aid, but she kept pushing my hands away and howling that she didn't want me to touch it. I was a bit on edge at the time, as you might imagine, and eventually I snapped and yelled "SHUT UP!" which was totally out of character for me. Huge tears immediately welled up in her eyes (she hadn't really been crying until then) and through heartbroken sobs, she said, "That's the meanest thing you've ever said to me." I apologized all over the place and explained that I was upset and hadn't really meant it, but I still feel guilty. I mean, you can't get much lower than yelling at a kid who just lost her dad, can you?

[carriesegall]

Too many screaming, yelling, irrational moments to count. But my person favorite included no hysteria, just neglect...
I put my 2 year old down for a nap, went downstairs and turned on Oprah. Enthralled with my moment of peace and quiet I heard nothing... until 45 minutes later when my neighbor rang my doorbell. She had my son (clad in a t-shirt and diaper) by the hand. He had LEFT my house, walked down the street and around the corner, and was two blocks away AND I HAD NO IDEA HE HAD LEFT THE HOUSE! That was the day I knew the "Mommy of the Year" trophy would never find a place on my mantle. This sentiment is confirmed 5 or 6 times every year as I do something stupid (or worse) as a parent. We all do it.

[Meredith]

I'm so glad I'm not alone on the yelling...my son's terrible two's have been just horrible. Once, while interrupting his play time to go somewhere I had to wrestle him into his car seat. This three minute activity-putting his coat on, defiling his appearance with a hat and getting in the car and just going-had turned into a 15 minute ordeal, full of wailing and kicking and writhing to get out of the seat. Once I'd had him properly strapped in, I slammed the door but could still hear screaming as I loaded the stroller into the trunk. I responded by yelling "Would you just shut the fuck up already?"

I think I let him have chocolate every day for a week to make up for that one.

[tiffany]

whoa, i feel you ALL. one of my favorites is the time my then two year old screamed "go, goddammit!" in the line at the bank (the car line, thank you jesus). or when he hit a kid the first day of K and when was told to keep his hands to himself spit on the kid. and i laughed and said "how do i scrapbook him shanking another kid?" yeah...i rock. and lets not forget me yelling at the 13 month old. i'm effing awesome.

[Beth]

My oldest was nearly three when #2 came along. The "let me run away from you hahahaha thisissofreakingfun" game was one of her favorite things, except she tried it on the first day my hubby went back to work after baby was born. We were outside and she took off, and I'm postpartum and holding a newborn...her flowing hair was the first thing I could grab as I caught up with her. She stopped short and never ran away from me again! I felt like a heel.

More recently, we planned our first weekend camping trip with the 3 girls, but the 3-yr-old had a cold and slightly elevated temperature. We decided that since she was happy we'd go anyway. So we're in the tent our first night in Crested Butte and she starts coughing and crying until she vomits, but during the day was pretty fine other than the occasional slight fever, so we took hikes and played in the stream and blah blah blah. Every time she fussed we'd say, "buck up, little camper!" She coughed until she vomited all three nights we camped, so when we got home I took her to the doctor, who diagnosed her with pneumonia. Nice, mommy, real nice.

[Rayne of Terror]

I too have been reduced to a shrieking harpy over socks, but when I did it the windows were open and our neighbors were out in the driveway listening.

[babelbabe]

I am laughing so hard, but I feel much better.

I am a terrible screaming shrew who has been known to scream back at my seven year old "I HATE YOU TOO!"

Oh god, the therapy bills. And that's not even the worst or the only one, they are mostly just too numerous to mention. Call CYS.

[vbd93]

just the most recent:

1)listening to Gwen Stefani's unedited "Hollaback Girl" in the car, so 2 1/2 year old in the cart at Target uses lollipop as a drumstick on the box of diapers, singing "This my sh*t, uh huh!" as we roll down the aisles.

2)yelling at him to stay in the bed until I feel like I'm going to explode, so I squelch the explosion which turns into tears. I go sit at the top of the stairs outside his room crying to myself, until he quietly comes up behind me, puts his hand on my back and says "I get you a tissue, mommy." he wins. again. probably my lowest moment.

[Sooz]

OK, I'm not a mom (yet). But I wanted to weigh in and say if y'all think these are horrible stories -- well, you should've seen my mom when I was a kid. She didn't have an easy time of it, for sure, but I still remember being spanked with wooden spoons and hairbrushes, constantly being told I was a klutz or stupid, etc. Somehow I managed to grow into a productive member of society. So I don't think the occasional yelling-until-hoarse is gonna do irreparable damage. Keep on keepin' on.

If bad aunt stories count: when my nephew was two, he threw a fit in the grocery store. I scooped him up, carried him out to the car and dumped him into his car seat, where he promptly bit my hand. I responded with "Here's your damn bottle" and tossed it into his lap. (I never told my brother about this incident, but if the kid doesn't get into Harvard it's probably my fault.)

[Lisa C]

I already posted, but I remembered another big one. I should premise this by saying that when my older sister had children I watch in judgment and horror as she yelled at her children. "She's so horrible!" I thought. "I would never yell at my children!"

Fast forward about eight years. My 18-month-old daughter is being an 18-month-old and making me crazy. Strong-willed, obstinate little thing, she's sitting in her high chair and does something (I don't even remember what) that sends me over the edge. I yank the tray off her high chair and throw it across the kitchen. Then I jerk her up and put her in her crib.

I immediately go back to the kitchen, mutter "She's weaned now," and pop a Zoloft.

I'd been waiting to return to my regularly scheduled medication for 27 months, but I wanted to stop nursing first. I thought weaning would be really hard on her, so I was taking my time with it. In retrospect, I realize that - if given the choice - she'd choose drinking milk from a cup over having an insane, abusive mother any day.

[Jen in CT]

I am sitting here, weeping as I read this, because I see myself in every single one of these stories.

I know that every day I'm doing my very best, but some days it's hard to accept that the best I can do is to devolve into a shrieking banshee that either eats too much, drinks too much, or smokes too much to cope with the pressures and demands of motherhood. *sigh*

@Jules--thank you. That is exactly how I've been lately: crabby, mean, low on patience, high on tension. I will work on it. :-)

[Gabrielle]

I shut my son's fingers in the car window when I thought I was closing the front passenger window. Turns out it was the back. Enough said.

[Bmc]

Gripping my 3yr olds legs so tightly during a freakout diaper change that i left fingerprint marks on his legs.

Oh, my husband had one the other night: telling our now 5 yr old who refuses to sleep in his own bed because of the scary noises the cats make that "if you dont get in bed we're going to get rid of the cats"

Classics.

[carlarey]

When my son was about three I was dropping him off at daycare one morning. It was pouring rain, and I was dressed for a meeting with a new client. I was standing in a huge puddle at the passenger door with the umbrella which was really only directing the water in a nice steady stream down my back. For some reason my kid just lost his mind. He freaked the hell out and refused to stand up so I could carry him under the umbrella. He was just shrieking over and over "I don't like that 'brella! Put that 'brella down!" I am getting wetter by the second so finally I lean over and yell, "Get out of the goddamn car this fucking second or I will grab you by the hair of the head and sling your hateful ass to the door!" And then I looked behind me and saw one of the new mothers gently extracting her sleeping infant from it's baby seat shielding it from the rain with her own body. She looked at me in utter horror and I said, "Oh your day's coming, honey. Just wait."

[karin]

I don't have kids, so this is a worst parenting story that I was on the receiving end of.

I was probably about 3 and really really did not want to be going to sleep. I'd been to the bathroom (with Mom's assistance) a number of times, yelled down the hall, and whined about how I didn't want to sleep. Then I asked for a glass of water

By this time I should have been asleep for at least an hour or so and my Mom had no absolutely no patience left.

So she brought me a glass of water, stood in my doorway, and threw the water on me in bed.

When she realized that she'd done so, she was upset and embarrassed and left my Dad to help me get changed, change my sheets and get me back to bed.

[Dad Gone Mad]

I left a porno in the DVD player one night. The next morning my son pushed play, assuming his Power Rangers DVD was still in the machine.

[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.