I'm nearly 43 and nothing has ever baffled me as much as this parenting thing. There is not a manual out there that can answer ANY of my questions. Quite often I say out loud "So how am I supposed to parent this?" - especially on those days when there's a toilet roll shoved down the loo and my daughter has cried six trillion times. I'm in my forties and I wish I could say that I've never felt better, but my memory isn't that sharp anymore. I am old and tired. I often wonder if I should have had children when I was much younger so I'd be better at blagging it. I know we all make slips but I'm starting to think I am making BIG mistakes. But you know what, I'm in a good place at the moment. People have even commented on how calm I am, which kinda freaks me out because I must have been demented before. And at least I've got some money saved up for my kid's future therapy. Anyway, looking back on my time parenting in my forties I can see a number of reasons why I have not yet been nominated for Mum Of The Year.
Reason One: My kids sometimes don't love me and sometimes I don't love my kids
Here's a conversation -
Child: "I don't love you when you're angry with me."
Me: "Oh well, nevermind."
Also, on those days when they've been arguing, fighting, whining, crying and generally revolting, I can pretty much say I don't love them.
Reason Two: Accusing my daughter of faking an injury and ignoring her
Because she constantly cries about every bump and bang even when nothing's happened. This morning, for example, I counted 27 new things wrong with her. And what made it worse was that she got wind her brother was seeing the doctor so she made up another 8 ailments.
Yesterday we went to the woods for 90 minutes - 60 minutes of which she spent crying because she'd hurt her knee on a leaf.
Reason Three: I let my toddler do what the feck he wants
Because it's easier. I break all the Rules Of Parenting with him. I don't discipline him that often and sometimes he plays with a hammer. If he wants crisps for breakfast, he gets them - because at 7.30 in the fecking morning with three kids to get to school, I don't want to be force feeding him cornflakes.
Reason Four: My kids don't believe me when I'm nice to them
Maybe because I fake smile so often. Or because I'm really good at saying "That's a lovely story, darling" when really I'm reading Twitter.
Or when I say "You've been really good", they tend to ask "Who are you talking to?".
But you know what - I tried it once, being a really Great Mum, doing everything by the book. It was a couple of months after I'd had my toddler. I did loads of home cooking, played games, did crafts and never raised my voice. I was actually fun to be around. However nobody noticed or even cared and my husband thought I was having a breakdown.
Maybe I'll be nominated in my fifties. Then again, maybe not.
This is an old blog revamped in case you recognise it - but I doubt that. I wrote it back when nobody read my blog except me. And my dog.