The Mummy Guilt Strikes Again...

So, there's been moments, maybe days in fact, where I wish I could pack my bags, move to the Maldives, live by the sea, with a book and cocktails all on my own....forever.

(I may take my husband actually, he's okay! Doesn't nag me, moan at me, wipe his moggers on me. Yes! He could come. Plus, I'd better take him seeing as he'd be paying for the 'big move', I can barely afford an overnight citybreak ATM!)

Anyway, you know the days, when you're looking at your beautiful tiny humans, and can't help but think "Why are you being such an arsehole today?"

Yes, I think this regularly and no I don't feel guilty. Of course, I would never ever (ever!) call my child an arsehole to his face because he's two and he's beautiful and he really is a sweetheart. I love him with all of my squishy heart and that would just make me a big fat giant PRICK. 

But when he's pushed his little brother over again for the 19th time that day or he just won't stand still for two minutes for me to dress him, and now we are going to be late, again. And I am left looking like the shit unorganised mum, because we are now there by the skin of our teeth! Any later and we would have to do the dreaded "sorry I'm late AGAIN, speech." Then yes! In my terrible unmotherly mind, I think those words!

Truth is, he's probably thinking the same about me too, isn't he?

Who am I to stop him from building his LEGO farm/ doing drawing or whatever he's busy doing, to put on clothes that he didn't even want to wear, to go to bloody Tesco for the third day in a row! You can't blame him, really can you?! That's a big shit bomb to have dropped upon you when you're two!

I don't even allow him to have a magazine anymore! Imagine that! You're two years old, enjoying your little Duplo blocks, your mum takes you away from your toys, unannounced, then uses her "sad voice" because you won't stand like a fucking tree, puts you in the car whilst telling you we're off on an adventure, and where do you end up. Tesco Carpark! Nice one Mam!
Your fate for the next 40 mins is sitting in a metal trolley, where you are squashed in next to your 9 month old brother and then you're told you're not even allowed to kick your legs! To add the final piss take, mum of course wheels you straight passed the magazines and chocolate and then completely refuses, allowing you to even hold one, because apparently you'll rip the toy off and she will have to pay for it.

Now, it's not often I start to think about life through a two year olds eyes because it makes me feel shit!
That overwhelming sense of "actually I don't think he was being naughty at all , I really need to be more patient." By then it's too late and it's dealt with, and all you're left with is this lovely bag of guilt that just hangs nicely between your heart and your stomach, just a little reminder that you've fucked up once more!

So, theres only one one way to solve's test time!

Your guilt forces you to go all Sigmund Freud and do a quick interview to check that your negative vibes haven't caused any long term phycological damage..
"Babe, does Mammy shout at you?"
"No! My mammy's got a happy face" he laughs, as if it was the most bizarre request ever!

Phew, Result! You're safe for another day! The smile you wore through gritted teeth tricked him once more and you've been given another chance to practise those "gentle parenting" skills that you once learnt from a book you read whilst pregnant and fucking clueless.

Starting now... I'm going to try.. PMA and all that Jazz...

Time to release the guilt!

Mary Poppins mode activated! ✔

A quick stop at the shop on our way home from Tesco to get that magazine and of course a pissing Easter egg because now you feel too guilty to say no! Everyone's happiness (and sanity restored!

Now, the only thing to worry about is that my child is going to grow up with an understanding that you can buy love and even when Mammy says no, chances are you'll end up with it anyway?! But that's an issue for another day... because we are back to being the coolest, most unfunctional (aka normal) family there is!

Until tomorrow that is..


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