This morning was one of those mornings. I’m sure we have all been there. Firstly I was on my period which is not my favourite time of the month (sorry yes I said period, I roll like that). So I was bleeding and bloated and grumpy and the children were not helping.
On days like this they behave like an annoy the heck out of Mummy tag team. Wonder Girl played her ‘I am going to cling to your leg and wail like my life depends on you picking me up’ card. Robo Boy and Super Kid initially went with ‘beating five shades of crap out of each other and then whine to Mummy about how terribly the other had behaved’ school of torture, which is somewhat of a speciality for them.
All of the above whilst I tried to do the three hours worth of domestic slavery that I have to fit into an hour before the school run. So I’m making packed lunches, hanging laundry, loading the dishwasher and peeling Wonder Girl off my leg. All the while thinking that if someone offered me a day working in an office right now I would be out the door in unstained office wear in an instant.
So things get worse when I suggest to my children that they should put on their shoes ready to go. Now all children know that putting on shoes and a coat is akin to having your fingernails pulled out by pixies. So naturally they protested, a lot. Then the boys fought some more ending with my eldest destroying my middle’s long laboured over lego model. This seemed mean so I go involved, always a mistake.
Then realising the error of my ways I try to regain control of the situation. I hand my eldest his gillet, perfect I thought for the autumnal day. At which point he says “yeah great I’ll wear this, even though its sunny and I’m going to be boiling all day” his tone dripping with sarcasm. Right around the word boiling my brain has started to boil. Then as my middle knocks over my youngest ,causing the wailing to return, I lose it.
“GET YOUR COAT ON AND STOP BEING SO BLOODY MISERABLE, I’VE HAD ENOUGH, I CAN TAKE NO MORE”. My son looked pretty shocked, which personally I think shows I don’t shout often and am therefore obviously mostly succeeding at good parenting, right ?
I grab his hand and march all three to school. Once there amongst the other altogether more reasonable parents, who had obviously not been shouting like fishwives that morning, the guilt set in. I apologised to my son and told him that I love him, even when I’m cross and headed off to preschool with the other two.
So ok go ahead and judge me, but I shared this because it’s real life. It’s what happens sometimes when I (human and not cloned from Martha Stewarts gene pool) get stressed. It doesn’t happen often and I always apologise and explain to my children that the way I handled things is not the best way. Please help me out here, am I alone ? Please share your guilty mummy moments, or even tips for how to avoid becoming ranty, because I clearly need them.