'The parenting question I'm too scared to ask anyone but Google.'

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If you've ever caught yourself doomscrolling on Google at 11 pm, searching for phrases like "signs of narcissism in children," while your kids are peacefully asleep, please know you're not alone.

Parenting comes with a special brand of guilt that makes even the most normal behaviours feel like red flags.

And sometimes, it's hard to know if you're raising little divas — or just, well, kids.

I'm a mum to a daughter, 7, and a son, 4. Image: Supplied.

The chaos.

It's 2025 and I'm staring at a blank screen while the faint sound of K-Pop, specifically from the KPop Demon Hunters soundtrack, drifts in from the backyard.

Out there, my four-year-old son and seven-year-old daughter are locked in their usual performance; part duet, part WWE SmackDown.

Listen: Unpacking the KPop Demon Hunters obsessions. Post continues below.

One minute they're harmonising like little pop stars, the next they're in a full-blown crisis over who dared to look at whom, or whose elbow brushed against the other's in a hammock.

I yell a vague threat about confiscating their music (my voice already hoarse from the day), which briefly restores peace — until it doesn't and it all repeats again.

In between the chaos? I'm frantically Googling phrases like: "signs of narcissism in children."

A very specific type of parenting guilt.

Here's the thing about children; every toy becomes a battleground and every request for calm and patience is treated like I've asked them to hike Everest barefoot.

Beneath it all, I can't help but wonder, am I raising self-absorbed little humans? Worse still, is it my fault? Or — and this is the thought that sometimes sneaks in on my more resentful days — is it their dad's fault?

The guilt is relentless. Heavy.

On top of all that, there's another brand of guilt; the "am I even spending enough time with them?" guilt.

Watch: Kate Langbroek's son Lewis reviews her parenting. Post continues after video.

The reality is that life right now is a messy juggle. I, like many mothers, work. And in between that, there are preschool drop-offs, school pick-ups, packed lunches, forgotten hats, forms that always seem to be due … yesterday.

Some days, I feel like I spend more time running around like a headless chook then I do with my kids. When I finally do sit down with them, my mind is already thinking about the next thing on my to-do list (emails, laundry, organise click and collect groceries).

It makes me think of my mum. She was a stay-at-home mum, and honestly, she was brilliant at it. My childhood was a blur of crafts, cubby houses made of bedsheets, cooking, bike rides, swimming until our fingers wrinkled.

She seemed endlessly available to five children.

And here I am, wondering if my two kids will look back and remember their childhood as fondly as I do, or just me hustling them out the door, reminding them for the 14th time to please put on shoes.

The school holidays.

Then there are the school holidays.

Those magical two weeks when I always convince myself it'll be "quality family time," but instead, end up calculating how many hours are left until school resumes, like a prisoner counting down their sentence.

We go to the park, ride bikes, go on walks, get hot chocolates at a café, go to the movies, burn off the energy in an inflatable funhouse and Bounce.

By day three, however, I find myself searching for "free activities." The screen time limits begin to dissolve, and so the fight is on between watching PAW Patrol or KPop Demon Hunters.

School holidays bring a very distinct form of guilt. Image: Supplied.

The kicker? When school finally starts again, they look at me with wide eyes and say, "Mum, we hardly did anything these holidays."

Truly, it feels like sometimes I cannot win.

The good bits.

Of course, just as I'm spiralling writing this, the K-Pop soundtrack fades and I hear giggles.

I peek outside and see them building a blanket fort together. Yes, it's a disaster zone I'll be cleaning up later, but it's also proof that in between the squabbles and the sass, there are tiny flashes of kindness and teamwork.

And maybe that's the bit I keep forgetting in all my late-night Googling: kids aren't narcissists. They're just … kids (hopefully). Self-centered one moment, cute the next.

Maybe the real issue isn't them at all, but my fixation on theirs or my own flaws.

Because the truth is, they are learning. They are growing and they are becoming.

The realisation.

So, maybe the answer isn't in a diagnosis, my guilt, or deciding who's to blame. Maybe it's simply noticing those small, messy, blink and you'll miss it moments of goodness, even when they're buried under K-Pop and blanket forts.

So, am I raising little narcissists, or just normal kids?

Honestly? I have no idea.

But maybe that's the whole point; none of us really know what we're doing.

We're all just muddling through, Googling symptoms, second guessing ourselves, and clinging to those fleeting moments of sibling giggles in between the meltdowns. And maybe, just maybe, that's enough.

And just when you think I'm barely surviving my life as it is, why do I sometimes find myself asking another question:

Should I have a third child?

Feature Image: Supplied.