I tried my best to be a chilled out mother, to be honest it’s still the perception I like to give off.
In a lot of respects I am, they can eat Maccie D’s and watch inappropriate stuff on the i-Pad. I am fairly confident i’m not a complete tw*t.
But there is one big obsticle in my way – I have spawned children that like to bolt. It was ok with one because I could run after him. I could scoop him up laughing and then slag him off, all the while secretly loving his crazy little ways.
When I was pregnant with the second I never gave a toss about the gender, just that my belly contained one that was a bit more, um, static.
It didn’t. F*cksticks.
I feel a bit bad describing my second experience of being a mum as ground-hog day but it was, so…
Same thing again. Only now there were two and I was, and still remain, well and truly screwed. Let them loose and like repelling magnets off they go in opposite directions, completely trashing my chilled out mum rep.
At this point it’s necessary to weigh up which one to hunt down and pointlessly reprimand, the little one always wins due the the larger one having at least a small level of common sense. Once I’ve pinned him down I drag him about while he screams, shouting for the other one, who despite often being in earshot will completely ignore me. It’s hard to put down in words just HOW MUCH FUN this is.
Often the game ends when someone comes up and taps me on the shoulder…
I find the summer is the hardest because I have to watch picnics happening. Actual proof that other people do have children that sit. There they are in all their glory, rubbing their sitty children evidence in my face.
*Please note I don’t actually go around drinking gin in the daytime and shouting at random families, that bit is just a fantasy*
Of any issues or obstacles I have with motherhood this is without doubt the most difficult. I know that every child has their challenges and that wet lettuces can also be rather irritating. I do take some delight seeing parents trying to shake children off their legs because they won’t go down the slide on their own…
But at the end of the day you can ignore the whining of a clingy child, however you can’t ignore the probable death of a wayward one.
And you can’t really have a conversation… anything to eat… a normal heart rate… or just, sanity.
Still, there is always gin.
p.s I welcome stories from the parents of needy kids, they honestly do make me feel a bit better and I would very gladly be proven wrong :)
**************P.S. I have a new book OUT NOW! You can nab it on Amazon here or in your lovely local bookshop :)