An OK Mother
I do not think I am the most amazing Mother in the world… does anyone?
But, most of the time I like to think I pass as OK.
My son could not be more loved or attended to. Yes, I work, albeit with a big dark cloud of GUILT over my head, but this is just the way things have to be at the moment.
I will always find time to have breakfast with Zachy during the week, even if this means forgoing a full cleanse, tone and moisturise. I read to him every day and I tuck him up in bed every night. I try to make sure he does not watch too much tv, or eat too much sugar. I make sure he gets plenty of exercise for every minute spent playing on the iPad.
I try to find a balance for him but I admit, it is a constant juggle.
Sometimes, I get home absolutely exhausted after a long day at work and all I want to do is turn off Peppa Pig, switch over to True Blood and curl up on the sofa with a glass of wine. But, I don’t.
My weekends are entirely dedicated to him. We may go the movies, take a trip to the farm, play in the park or just hang out with family and friends. The most important thing is that we are together, spending time as a family and creating long-lasting happy memories. I hope…
So, I think I do OK.
But this week, I messed up massively.
I cannot even blame the Greek Godzilla.
When I collected Zachy from nursery on Tuesday evening, I was asked to bring in a fancy dress costume for the Halloween party they were throwing the following day.
Now, 6pm on a Tuesday night is a bit late notice to be mentioning the f word to working parents and I started to seriously consider calling in sick from work the next day, just so I could keep him home and spare him the embarrassment of being the only one not in *whispers* …fancy dress.
Luckily, I remembered that the A-Team had given him a Buzz Lightyear costume for his birthday, which he loves so much and needs no encouragement to wear whatsoever.
So, that was sorted then and Zachy was delighted to know he’d be dressing up as Buzz for nursery.
When I tucked him in later that night, I reminded him of the exciting day he would have ahead of him when he woke up in the morning.
I went back downstairs, watched a few shows recorded on the TV planner and went to bed feeling pretty happy with myself.
At 2am, Zachy called out for a cuddle, which I reluctantly obliged. After a few minutes, I stroked his hair, told him to go back to sleep and slowly started to make my way back to my own room.
Cue massive meltdown and screaming at the top of his lungs for me to return, which this time I most certainly did not oblige.
He proceeded to work himself up into a total tizz and after what felt like 5-hours later, but was probably more like 5-minutes, I could hear him sobbing outside the door.
I went back into his room, picked him up and calmly explained to him that it was the middle of the night and people were sleeping. He quietened down, let out one big final sob and then settled back down to sleep.
Even the Greek Godzilla was impressed with my technique.
He said WOW.
When morning came, he complimented me again on how well I had handled the situation. Rare praise indeed.
Which is why I felt the need to document it
I was even starting to feel more and more like one of those amazing mums, not just an OK one anymore.
There was nothing different about our morning routine that day. We got up, got dressed, went downstairs for breakfast, brushed teeth and then a quick 5-minutes of telly for Zachy while I ran back upstairs to dry my hair, make sure everything was turned off and grab the Buzz costume.
Only, it wasn’t where it was meant to be.
Must be in another drawer, I thought to myself.
OK, in the drawer under the bed then.
Maybe hanging in the wardrobe?
Let’s look behind the sofa, we always find lots of missing things there.
“Why don’t you check the garden” I suggested to the Greek Godzilla who bravely tiptoed out into the frosty air in his slippers.
Nope, not there either.
“Zachy, would you like to dress up as a pirate at nursery today?”
No Mummy, I want to be Buzz.
I could feel the amazing starting to plot its escape out of my Amazing Mummy crown. Any longer and the OK would be starting to slip too.
I was running seriously late for work by this time so I did what any OK mother would do… I stuffed last year’s pirate costume into a carrier bag and bundled us both into the car.
Here is a photo of him wearing it when it still actually fitted him.
All day, I had visions of him being the only pirate wearing a midriff top and shorts in late October and the cloud of guilt over my head grew bigger and bigger and bigger and bigger.
To make matters worse, I had arranged to pick him up early from nursery for a dentist appointment.
Literally made him leave a party early, where there was cake, dressed in a crop top, to go visit the dentist.
I felt like the worst mother in the whole world.
When I arrived, he ran towards me wearing the same clothes I had dressed him in that morning.
“He refused to wear the pirate costume” they told me “said he only wanted to be Buzz”
I looked around and saw none of the other children were wearing their costumes either.
Just like that, I was OK again.
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