OK, this is a call to arms, fellow Mums. We lead busy lives. We are less than perfect. We make mistakes; errors of judgment. We are sometimes hypocrites and at other times, outright liars. It’s OK, we can own this together! We have stifled laughter at inappropriate moments in our child’s developmental journeys. Many times. We have sworn, loudly, unashamedly in front of our children and, we may have even enjoyed it.
It’s time to unite in our imperfection and release the façade that we are always earnest, honest, really listening and on top of the washing. (The washing that’s been in the machine waiting to be hung out for 3 hours now, but I’m pretending to myself that I haven’t noticed? Yep, that washing.)
It’s time to admit that when we lose it, it’s pretty spectacular.
So, in the spirit of embracing our #parentingfails, our less than exemplary role modeling, our very human mothering moments, we have spoken to an assortment of Mums about the moments that pushed them over the edge, gloriously honest and conveniently anonymous. Let’s do this.
“My daughter, aged about 12 came into my room in the middle of the night complaining of a sore stomach, and I couldn’t be bothered waking up properly so I mumbled something about ‘go and try to do a poo, it’s probably just that’ and seconds later she projectile vomited all over the carpet.”
“When I heard my daughter exclaim "f***ing computer" at 18 months old and knowing exactly where she’d heard it.”
“My daughter (aged 4) had a friend over and they were very quiet, and I found they had helped themselves to the paint - black paint no less - and had smothered it all over the wooden floors from the playroom and all into the bathroom where they had attempted to clean themselves but only made things worse. I had to present my friend's daughter with a stain of black paint all over her arms and face that took another couple of washes to get off. Fun!”
“When my daughter was about three, she was being really naughty and I was at my wit’s end, so I sent her to her room and slammed the door dramatically, and yelled through the door that she could stay in there until I said so. She was wailing that she had to go to the toilet, but I was too angry and wound up so I thought she was just saying it to get out of trouble. When I opened the door after a few minutes she had peed on the floorboards, and when she ran towards me in tears she slipped in it. Natural justice for me was that I had to clean all of it up as well as feel terrible. Whoops…”