Do you play in your daily life? What says “playtime” to you?

Do you play in your daily life? What says “playtime” to you?

How do parents say “no” to playtime requests from their children, especially when you just got back from the day’s work and look stressed out?
I’ve been reading about mothers hating or disliking their children here. How can a mother feel this way towards their own child?
Twelve years ago, while at dinner with husband, child, and friends, child was feeling bad, so I spent the dinner cuddling her, stroking her. When she unexpectedly threw up, I grabbed napkins, cleaned up the mess, cleaned her up, and got us out of the dinner and back home as quickly as possible.

When she was in the hospital with pneumonia, I spent nights on the pull-out bed and was there for four days straight.

When she needed a Pocahontas costume for a presentation in fifth grade, I bought felt and feathers and pulled one together on my (seldom-used) sewing machine.

When she was in sports, I drove her to and from, every single day, and made sure we were at her meets and cheered her on.

When she got in trouble with teachers, I worked with them and her to settle things down.

We bought her a trumpet and went to her band concerts when she was in band.

Yesterday, my now 15-year-old screamed at me, “You fucking stupid bitch!” and “You fucking lazy asshole!”.

Yeah. Sometimes you just don’t like your kids.

Edited to add: Guys, for some reason I can’t figure out how to reply to your comments anonymously.

To the people wanting to know backstory to my pity party: my daughter lost her learner’s permit. We had to go to the MVD to replace it. I had a large envelope full (I thought) of the documents needed to replace it. When we got there, the smaller envelope inside that had, I thought, the letter from the school with her name and address as proof of residency, did not—it was empty. We couldn’t get the permit. My daughter huffed and muttered “fucking” this and that. MVD person was appalled, told me she was sorry with real sympathy, and further said, “You know, you don’t have to get her a license; she can get one on her own when she’s 18.” Anyone who has dealt with civil servants such as at the MVD knows how rare it is to get one of them to say something like that.

In the car on the way home is when the hysterics and the previously described screaming occurred. An attempt to get hubby to come pick her up and drive her home instead of me was stymied by the fact he was just about to go into a very important emergency meeting.

One respondent suggests I get her some psych help. Yes, I think that’s a good idea; this (a) has happened more than once, and (b) is very disruptive to daughter’s future life (and ours, too, of course!).

It’s a snapshot of life with my daughter these days. I love her deeply, but if she were my husband, I’d have divorced her long ago! 😉

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