I don't hate my kids, but I hate being a parent.
I hate not having anything even remotely resembling a social life. I hate changing diapers. I hate cleaning up after my kids. I hate driving some of them to school. I hate having to cook for them all the time. I hate listening to them fight, or cry, or beg for something. I hate having to take them to sports or activities so they're not bored. I hate having to keep watch over them when friends come over to play.
I hate being trapped in fucking broiling desert, backwards ass Arizona, just because a job pays well enough to support four kids and moving would mean working for about 1/2 the pay. I've wasted a third of my life in this fucking place because I can't afford to move because of these kids. I hate having to keep a close watch over my kids because I live in a fucking huge beige and cement city...the more people there are, the more sick fucks you gotta worry about taking kids.
I hate never being able to go anywhere new, see anything new, do anything new. School, meals, naps, sleep. I can't wait for them all to grow up and go away to college. Until then, I'm responsible for them. I'll be 52 when the last leave the house...I'd say half my life will be gone, and I'll have nothing but regrets.
The first kid was ok, I was 28 and figured I would make a good parent. The second got annoying by the time he turned 3. The third and fourth were definitely a mistake in judgement on my part. Should have just said "no fucking way" to the wife after the first two. There's times I can't stand the sound of their voices. A couple times I've even gone so far as to wear earplugs and ignore them for an hour or two.
I usually stay up late and deprive myself of hours of sleep, just because I know that the sooner I go to sleep, the sooner another day of dealing with my children will start for me. Hell, I've gotta get up in 3 1/2 hours to take the older ones to school.
The brief moments of "oh, that's cute" are far overshadowed by the sheer level of shit I hate about parenthood. Passing on my genes is not worth this. If I would have known I'd hate parenthood so much, I'd have gotten a vasectomy at 18.
And to top it all off, I don't drink alcohol. I never acquired a taste for it, and earlier in life had no desire to kill off brain or liver cells, nor give up any self-control. I think I'd like to learn to appreciate a good beer or well-crafted spirit, but I won't. How much more miserable would my life be if I let slip to the wife or others how much I regret almost all of my decisions of the past 18 years (moving to Arizona, having kids, and sometimes even including marriage)?
Why even bother typing this up? I feels a little better just to put it out there, and I know that nobody I know will see this or be able to connect this to me. I put on a pretty decent act as a responsible (and almost caring) parent. I've been living the lie for years.