It's ok to sometimes feel miserable as a parent ✍️
Last Thursday was one of those days.
It started off just fine. The twins were a bit slow getting out of bed, but nothing too dramatic. I was slightly on edge because Marge was off and I’d be handling them solo the whole day while also needing to get some work done. But I’ve done that plenty of times. I picked them up from school with a good mood and happy thoughts.
For a little while, everything went surprisingly well. Peaceful, even.
But before dinner, the calm broke. One of the twins started misbehaving. In his rampage, he pulled his brother right along with him. I tried staying calm, firm, and present. But they kept going. They pushed every boundary, again and again, with the stubborn, chaotic energy that only the cocktail of ASD/ADD, tiredness, and hunger can generate. (Later, I learned they hadn’t finished their lunchboxes.)
The crisis didn’t fade. It carried through the entire evening, right up to bedtime. It was relentless.
By the time they were finally asleep, I was wiped. Not just tired, I was devastated, angry, ashamed, stressed. I collapsed into the couch, needing space from everything and everyone. And eventually, I did unwind a bit. A good sleep helped me reset.
And then the next morning? They woke up their usual selves. Sweet, funny, curious. Like nothing had happened.
The Hidden Truth About Parenting
I’m writing this because I don’t think we talk about this enough. It’s not often you hear someone say, “I had a truly miserable day as a parent yesterday.” But we all have them. Even though we know parenting is hard, most of what we see and share, the birthday photos, the smiling faces at sports events, the proud school achievements, tells only one side of the story.
What you don’t see are the full-blown tantrums, the sensory overloads, the screaming, the moments where we feel completely helpless. What you don’t hear are the thoughts parents quietly carry: “Why can’t I handle this better? What am I doing wrong? Why do I feel so angry at my own child right now?”
Sideline Confessions
I spend a lot of time with my boys at sports clubs. I like that part of parenting. Watching them move, learn, grow. And during those hours on the sidelines, I often talk to other parents. Not just the ones from similar backgrounds, but people from all walks of life.
The most honest and comforting moments are when another parent drops the mask and says something real. “My kid's been impossible lately. I honestly don’t know what to do.” I always go home and tell Marge about those conversations, because they remind me: it’s not just us.
Everyone struggles.
Even close family. Like my sister-in-law sharing about issues with her children, while on the outside, everything looks perfect. It made me realise again how easy it is to assume everyone else has it under control.
They don’t.
And it changed how I look at people. I try not to judge parents who seem short-tempered in public. I don't know their background or what just happened before I met them.
And I don’t assume calm kids mean calm homes. I remind myself that sometimes the nicest people are just barely holding it together.
No Shame in Struggle
So if you’ve had a day or a week where you’ve felt miserable as a parent, you’re not broken. You’re not failing. You’re just human, doing your best in an incredibly demanding role.
I love my boys. Deeply. Fiercely. But there are days when it’s just too much, and I need a break, a deep breath, and a bit of silence. That doesn’t make me a bad parent. That just makes me real.
And I’m starting to think that admitting this, out loud, might actually make us better parents, not worse.
What also gives me hope is knowing that things change. I’ve seen it myself. My oldest son, who at 6 had an incredibly short fuse, is now 8 and so much calmer and more understanding. It reminds me that many things in parenting are just phases. Some longer, some more intense, but none permanent. Sometimes the hardest part is just holding on long enough to see the change come.
It’s not always easy. But you’re not alone.
“There’s no such thing as a perfect parent. So just be a real one.”
— Sue Atkins
Thanks for reading!
If you liked this post, leave me a reply via direct message, my socials or my guestbook.
And in case you linked back to this post or wrote a comment on your website, let me know to update my web interactions.
Open the below toggle for more information to reply or link to this post.
💬 I'd like to hear from you -
Comment on this post that is automatically posted to my account on Mastodon or Bluesky.
Or send me a direct message.
🔗 Did you link to this post? Let me know!
Did you write a follow-up to my post or link here from your site?
Submit the URL of your article or site, to notify me and add it to the web interactions.