I practically let one of my sons get away with murder because I hate when he’s mad at me, but I’m pretty firm when disciplining the other.
When I get sick of reading the same book over and over I tell my toddler that the words are broken and I’ll fix them later.
I hide chocolate and cookie dough in the vegetable drawer where no child or husband will ever find them.
I told my son that I’m allergic to tantrums, so whenever he starts to throw a fit, I pretend to gag and he stops.
I told my daughter that her ADHD and high-functioning autism are really just superpowers that allow her to think differently than other people. This way, she never feels ashamed or disabled by them.
When my boyfriend is home, I sometimes pretend to have to poop just so I can have ten to fifteen minutes alone to play on Facebook.
I once blended spinach in red pasta sauce so my son would eat it, but the sauce turned brown. So I convinced my son we were having an exciting dinner in the dark with candles so he wouldn’t notice the brown sauce, and he ate it without complaint.”
Some days I just want to run away. Raising kids is so much harder than I thought it was going to be.
My son is autistic and has limited verbal ability. While I would love for him to increase his verbal skills, life with his quietness is pretty pleasant. When I babysit my neighbor’s kids, they talk non-stop and their jibber-jabbering is stressful!
I was horrible about keeping up with my kids’ baby books. I just went back later and made stuff up!
When my son was two, he would only eat chicken, so we told him everything was chicken. He never caught on.
Whenever I get sick, my husband takes over watching our son until I’m better so I can rest. I tend to milk it for an extra day or two so I can have a short break from parenting.”
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I’ve given my child the last piece of bacon when I really, really, REALLY wanted it for myself. And I did it with a smile.
My almost 3-year-old wants to watch Moana every day, multiple times a day. I now tell him Moana is sick in bed, and we’ll see her when she wakes up.
Years of attending concerts have dulled my hearing, but I pretend it’s worse than it is. This way, I get to ignore yells from across the house, and the kids don’t whisper when planning a caper.
My daughter is a pescatarian and I used to make her a spinach and tomato stew that she loves. When she went to college, she called me for the recipe. After she made it, I asked how it was. She said, ‘Yours tastes better.’ I told her that it must be because I made it with love…but it was actually because I made it with chicken broth.
Article have been lightly edited for length/clarity.