Now, if you have known me for sometime you know that I have some attitude. I am notorious for standing my ground, being a little outspoken about things I am passionate about and speaking my mind even if that gets me into all sorts of strife. I base my decisions on instinct and it feels wholesome and good.
When it comes to Motherhood, I initially struggled. I felt like I lost myself. I believed I had to conform to this ‘good mother’ code which would then equate to me being the best Mum I could possibly be. It mean’t reading lots of parenting books, not swearing, ensuring my washing never sat in the machine too long before pegging it, not drinking alcohol (GASP), having a spotless kitchen, staying calm and asking my tantrum throwing child to please stop banging her head in the sweetest voice possible AND being all butterflies and fucking rainbows when the husband walked in the door.
Over the years single parenting allowed me to relax somewhat. See, being all the above didn’t stop my marriage breaking down. So I stopped trying so darn hard and started being me.
Almost 13 years later here I am.
My 4 year old son threw an Oscar winning performance this morning because he didn’t like the smell of his hoody jumper for kindy. (NB. Jumper was washed and clean .. but you know … fresh laundry smell WTF?)
Firstly, I tried to amend the situation but quickly realised this was going to be another one of those moments in life that you can’t please the pissed off person and retreated back to my caffeine shot. He carried on some more and his big sisters tried to convince him he smelt delicious in his lovely Elmo jumper BUT you know .. laundry smell, thats some bad shit! How dare Mum do that?
To cut the story short … the Mother I was this morning mean’t that with the last swallow of my coffee and one slipper on my foot I walked into his room smiling and stated in a rather PSYCHOTIC VOICE the following :
D Man if you don’t put a jumper on that will keep you warm today I am going to take you to kindy wearing my pi’s, messy hair and only one slipper on because I cannot for the life of me find the other one.
His glare back at me spoke volumes. Situation fizzled. MUM HAD LOST IT.
Thus fresh laundry stinking jumper was being placed on.
Sadly I had to get myself dressed and sort my crazy bed hair out, due to warm clothing compliance.
I do have to wonder why I ever felt the pretence to behave any differently around my kids back in my early motherhood days. Containing my sort of loving crazy almost killed my insides once. But I didn’t know any better I guess.
I thought that being a parent meant I had to ADULT every single day, and to be honest I simply can’t.
Yes I drink too much coffee and wine sometimes. Yes I swear like a pirate on day 3 of his rum detox far too much AND YES I do use my instinctual crazy Bad-Arsery Motherhood skills to hold office over unruly children… but I parent on instinct alone now.
My instinct always says to love them first and foremost, my instinct always says to finish what ever is in my cup before tackling any big issues with them and my instinct ALWAYS SAYS to just be me while doing it all. Nobody else. Just me.
Even if that brings a whole knew level of motherhood bad-arsery to the playing field, I think that’s ok.
If all of this turns to shit, I guess I will have only myself to blame.
What do you think? Am I wrong?