There are certain things with parenting that when admitted out loud you need to be prepared for the backlash.
Certain topics that you know will end in accusations and name-calling.
This is one of them.
This is one of those topics that ends in a Facebook slanging match with faceless posters telling you that you don’t appreciate what you have. With the accusation squarely served at you that other people out there would give anything for it, that you are ungrateful.
The confession I am about to make is one that usually only pops up at those late arvo mother’s groups when you’ve had a glass of wine and are relaxed for once, or on a rare night out.
It’s almost a taboo topic.
It’s also one of those things that while it might be something we complain about we know that one day, in the future, we will look back with fondness and wish we could have that time over again.
But it doesn’t stop the feeling right now.
It doesn’t stop that soundless scream in your head at times. It doesn’t stop that suffocating feeling you get of just wanting to be left alone.
The experts calling it ‘touched out syndrome’.
I call it love-smothering. That feeling of being so over-touched, over-hugged, over-pulled at and grabbed and snotted on and vomited on and covered in another person’s bodily fluids that all your brain can do is scream silently LEAVE ME ALONE.
I feel guilty admitting it, really heart wrenchingly guilty because I know how much I love my children. I know how much on normal, ordinary days I can’t get enough of them. I know how at times when they are at school or daycare I crave them physically, the warmth of their touch, the sweet sweaty smell of their hugs.