My kids are assholes. Really. If I'm not catering to their every whim and desire or if I'm asking them to do simple things like clean their rooms, they lose their minds. I can't help but wonder: Are my kids assholes because I'm one too?
Life Parenting

My Kids are A-Holes. Is it Because I Am Too?

My kids are assholes. Really. If I'm not catering to their every whim and desire or if I'm asking them to do simple things like clean their rooms, they lose their minds. I can't help but wonder: Are my kids assholes because I'm one too?

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While reading Diary of a Domestic Diva’s blog post about her kids being assholes, I found myself nodding my head. Her post scarily hits close to home. So WHY do our kids act like this? Why do they have the ability to make us feel like they hate us?

I find myself dealing with whiny bullshit every day. If we have something to do in the morning, I get snotty remarks and replies to my questions. While they were in school, I would ask the same questions regarding their readiness to head out. Do they think I’m happy to be up early? Hell no, I’m not. I want to stay curled up in my cozy bed not dealing with their attitudes.

When I purchase their favorite foods and clean their rooms for them, I’m the Best Mom Ever! Otherwise, I’m the meanest. Forgive me for needing them to be decent members of society and decent husbands when they grow up. No way in hell are they going to treat me like a maid!

If I have to take them to the grocery store with me, it takes forever to get their butts moving. They hate being rushed and will take an extra five minute to buckle their seat belts just to spite me. If I could get away with going to the grocery without them every time, I would. Having to clean the house and manage to get anything done for myself puts a limit on my time to quickly run in.

School is out for summer, so there is no avoiding taking them along unless my husband is around. When we finally make it to the store, it’s a disaster. There’s fighting over who gets to pick out the cart and fighting over which side they stand on during our aisle browsing. Going in with a list rarely works out; I’m so busy trying to keep them under control I forget things.

My oldest hates when I force him outside into the sun and fresh air. He’d rather stay cooped up on an electronic than see his friends most days. My youngest hates being cooped up and begs to go outside. When it rains, his assholish tendencies are ten times worse.

Their actions and attitudes are awful. If something isn’t going their way, they stomp and scream. I don’t know why they think back talking is going to get them anything. I’m not a pushover, yet they continue their shit.

Sure, my kids can be amazing and well behaved — just not at home. They have a need to be arrogant and disrespectful little shits.

Getting them to take care of their shoes when we return home is a nightmare. Yes, we really do argue about shoes. If they get in trouble and I want to discuss their punishment, their mouthing off begins. Then, of course, I get pissed and want to yell. Most of the time, I reign it in, but other times I can’t help but drop a few curse words.

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J-bug has this need to pester D-dude. D-dude has moments where he is pissed at the world and needs alone time, but J-bug cannot seem to function without his brother. D-dude has the need to be the authority. I cannot talk to J-bug without D-dude chiming in. I eventually snap and scream into a pillow.

Why do I insist that my kids are assholes?

J-bug’s constant need to one up me.

D-dude’s constant need to tell me all the things he has at his dad’s house.

The need to fight, kick and hit.

J-bug’s ability to eat in the middle of the night even though he got so full during dinner he was going to throw up.

The asshole shit they do every day after reminders to behave really pisses me off. I try to ignore them most of the day. I say no to something, only to have them ask for it five minutes later with an argument about how so and so got to do this or that.

I know my kids can be good kids; I’ve seen it. At home, they cannot be bribed or begged to behave. Nothing exhausts me more than feeling like a helicopter mom. My pleases and thank yous have no impact; it doesn’t remind them to be polite. How often I clean and have them help doesn’t clue them in to pick up after themselves.

I’d love to say I have more good days than bad with my kids. I’m sure we all would love to say that. I have so many bad days, it’s hard to remember the good ones.

All this makes me wonder: Is it me? Am I teaching my kids to be assholes in some way and not seeing it? God, I hope not. Because I can’t stand the thought of there being one more asshole than there already is in the mix.

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