April 19, 2013

Playing is for the turds. I mean birds.

I have a confession.

I hate playing. I hate playing princesses. I hate playing dinosaurs. I hate playing trains. I hate playing tea party, and animals, and I hate playing grocery store with the cash register, although I hate that game a little less than others. I hate playing in the bathtub. I hate playing while we get ready for bed.

I dread hearing "Mommy, do you want to play with me?" in that sweet little voice. I feel so utterly guilty that I hate playing. I think I hide it well most of the time, when I force myself to say "Yes, of course I want to play with you!" I don't, I really don't! But I know I have to, and I know one day I'll be sad that Kai doesn't even want to look at me, let alone spend any time playing with me.

I know of one person that absolutely refuses to play with their kid. Just flat out won't play, tells him "Go play on your own." That feels too cruel. Kai does need to learn to play on her own, but not that way. I feel like that would crush a kid's spirit. I don't know this person firsthand; I wish I did so I could know if they are telling the truth, and if so, how do they live with the guilt when they see the disappointment on their kid's face??

My mom said I never liked to play by myself when I was a kid. Great. But at least I had a sibling. Kai only has her parents. And right now, she only wants me to play with her.

I come from a long line of sticks in the mud, which is why I think I hate playing. I didn't hate playing as a kid, but abhor it as an adult. But like much of my life now, my time is no longer my own.

So play I will. But you can't make me like it.