The honest Mum

Today is one of those days. All Mums have them, but rarely are they talked about. My girls are sick, I’m freaking exhausted, we visit a childless friend only to have to leave early once the toddler spills tea all over her nice rug and the baby won’t stop crying. Can I get off the ride yet?

I’ve been reading a refreshingly honest blog called Renegade Mothering. I adore this woman. You must read her work. Her blog has inspired me to share some of the less brilliant moments in our house. Yes I’m a crunchy, hippy, buckwheat loving mother. I also like TimTams, crap TV and would drink like nobody’s business if I wasn’t breastfeeding. I’m a real person with real failings, and this includes my parenting journey.

After our crazy morning at my friends we had to do some errands, and by the time we got home both girls were tired. I changed nappies, gave the toddler some milk and collected all 7 teddies that MUST be in the cot at bedtime. Boo went to her cot and I took the baby for a feed. I was starving, stressed and exhausted. I’d also let The Husband shop alone last night. He bought twisties, and I found them and ate them. The shame.

Three minutes into feeding the baby, I hear the toddler talking to herself. Cute, I think. About two minutes later it starts; ‘Eat, muma eat’. Christ on a cracker, she’s HUNGRY’. I ignore it, but it doesn’t go away. I check the fridge for easy snacks and come up empty handed (thanks to hubby’s hopeless shopping). What to do? Dissolve into tears of course.

I sobbed, and I sobbed some more. In my fatigue and with nothing more than twisties fueling my mind since breakfast I could not think of what to feed her. I felt useless, hopeless and like the worst mother ever. I cried some more.

I went and collected her from the cot. Her sweet voice telling me that I ‘need tissue’ and ‘Mummy sad’. I cried some more.

Eventually I spied eggs on the counter. We had no bread, as I make my own and hadn’t made a loaf yesterday. More crying. In the end, I fried 5 eggs, cut them into little pieces and sat on the lounge room floor with her while we picked at them.

It was a shit parenting moment. It was a shit life moment. But, it was an honest moment. I was honest with myself about my limitations. I was honest with my daughter by letting her know that sometimes Mummies get overwhelmed and cry (and that’s okay). And now I’m honest with you, by letting you know that while I do try my best, I’m only human.

And that’s okay.

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