Dear children. I love you but I am not playful. I wasn’t playful as a child. I am not a playful adult. I bought you toys so that YOU could play. I am not a mom who wants to stay home and play with your toys with you. I am the mom who pays for you to go to a really fun babysitters where there are other kids and new toys to play with. I am the mom who then comes and picks you up and brings you home to a nutritious homemade meal, sometimes baked treats, clean laundry and a clean home. I have spent my day at work and studying because I’m the mom who is going to show you that self-care is important and that you can do anything- including going to uni in your mid-thirties. Oh and dad? He’s in full time nursing school rn, so your parents are killing it modelling academics and hard work. I’m the mom who wants to pick you up and hear your stories (not your fighting) and after that supper I made I want to do the dishes while you play with your own toys then I want to bathe you and snuggle you in your Jammie’s. I want to read books and smell your hair and hold you. And on weekends I want to go special places, I want to watch you do dance class and play hockey. But dear children. I have zero interest in playing. There are 3, soon to be 4 of you. I gave you playmates. I hope you still think I’m a good mom when you look back. When you don’t want to play with your own kids and you hate yourself and resent them for asking 63758 times a day. When you’re so tired from your own loves waking you all night and when you lie with worry you’re failing at it all. I am the mom you can call. Day and night. I’m the mom who will drive you to the parties and pick you up at obscene hours. I’m the mom who will throw you the extra 20$ to go have fun with your friends and pray when you return you’ll want to tell me about it. Im the mom who will show you how to cook and bake (but for God sakes when you’re older and more sanitary) and sew and check your oil and do the laundry and all the skills you’ll need. I’m the supportive, service mom. I’m the teacher. I’m the no bull-shit mom. I’m the advocate and the provider mom. I’m the physical affection mom. But I’m not playful. I’m not a Pinterest mom. I’d rather do my own crafts and DYI’s and baking then come up with art projects that will just make a mess and increase my stress-level when you refuse to help clean it up or when you don’t want it to be over. So. I know you think that all of your friends parents are at their houses playing up a storm (and some ARE!) but that’s not every parent. And I won’t feel the shame any more. My parenting style is a style. I love you the same as the mom making homemade play dough sitting on the floor participating in hours of endless car races. I am enough. I am more than enough. And so are you.

Signed,

Unplayful, tired mother with relentless kids.