I refuse to play with my kids — and it makes me a better mom

Before kids, when I was an imaginary mom, I romanticized what fun it would be to set up tea parties for my little ones, complete with stuffed animal guests, petit fours and a toile-patterned tea set. That was back when everything about motherhood was going to be perfect.

Then I actually had kids. It didn’t take long to realize how different motherhood was from what I imagined, and how bored out of my skull I would be by imaginary play. Before having kids, your memories of play are from when you were a kid, aka a time when imaginary play is still fun. As a grown woman, however, pretending to be a dinosaur, princess, ninja, superhero — you name it — sucks what little energy I have remaining right out of my soul after an exhausting day of caretaking for three kids.

In a recent Instagram post, I addressed my strong distaste for any sort of imaginary play with my children, and it went viral. People have a lot of feelings about what I said. To be clear, I’m happy to facilitate an imaginary scenario for my kids — “Here, use this cardboard box and pretend it’s a boat and you’re lost at sea” —  but to see me actually become involved as a character in their fantasy is about as rare as rocking horse poop. I simply choose not to engage with my children that way.

When my kids have asked me to participate in their games in the past, I tell them, “Grown-ups don’t always play the way kids do — that is for you to do on your own. But, if you want, we can go outside for a walk in a little while.” I think of it as a soft hard-pass.

I am a great mom. I have three children, ages 10, 8 and 5. They’re amazing kids. Our relationships are rock-solid. My oldest child battled leukemia for nearly 3.5 years, and I would lay down my life to ensure that my children were well cared for. But my needs as a mother are important, too. I choose to engage with my kids through things we mutually enjoy: conversation, joking, hugs and kisses, singing songs on the way to school in the morning, and even the occasional puzzle or board game when I’m feeling extra carefree. I make concessions on doing things for my kids that I don’t particularly enjoy about a zillion times a day — meals, cleanup, hygiene, scheduling, etc. — and I wholly accept it because these are things I need to do. I will absolutely not be adding “play” to that list. I know doing so would drain me and make me feel resentful, and I really don’t want to use my energy that way.

Some people are quite alarmed by the boundaries I’ve set with my children on play. Some have commented that they feel “sad” for my kids, while others have called me “selfish.” To those people, I say: You are entitled to your own beliefs, and if you have enjoyed the experience of playing with your kids, that is awesome for you guys. Knock yourself out, get intoxicated on imaginary tea, live it up — I love that for you! But I will never, ever allow your shame to dictate the way I parent. I am going to be me and while my words may disturb some of you, they also seem to have generated relief for many others. For every negative comment I receive on Instagram, there are about 100 positive ones.

I have been through quite a bit in my first decade of motherhood and I am proud to say that, while I don’t have all the answers, I know who I am. It is deeply important to me to unsheathe the candy-coated visions of motherhood. I refuse to go along with society’s regular scheduled programming that the motherhood experience is about all-encompassing joy, and that moms must be in love with all aspects of the job.

Motherhood is the hardest thing I have ever done, but I will keep going and keep doing my best because I love my children and they are unfathomably important to me. There is no one right way to parent. There are no scripts or formulas to follow. Trust your instincts. Your motherhood experience gets to be determined by you, and it’s OK to be honest about it.

This article was originally published on TODAY.com