Have you ever had one of those evenings where you just want to sit down on the kitchen floor and stay there for a while? Dinner is late so your toddler has turned into the angry person on the snickers ad, only you can’t feed them a snickers for tea can you? You would love some wine and chocolate right now delivered by your Channing Tatum Lookalike butler while the nanny feeds and baths your toddler… Oops sorry just daydreaming for a moment there!
The craziness of the hours between 4pm till bedtime.
It only takes one evening of chaos, tears and tiredness all round to make you feel the mum guilt. If only I had got home earlier, if only I had prepared some meals, and the if only list goes on…
This was me one night last week. Trying to feed my toddler macaroni cheese with broccoli on the side because my work meeting had run later than expected. Miss Two was already too far gone to be fed, reasoned with or even consoled. The dinner battle was abandoned and bath time was not a great success. The pyjama battle went on for what seemed like forever, there was running; tussling, wresting and the battle took all the strength I had left. Finally there were no negotiations when she asked to sleep in Mum and Dads bed as my surrender flag had gone up and I just wanted the bedtime war to be over.
Five minutes of crying and snuggles later and my little warrior was asleep, looking like an absolute angel. My usual MacGyver moves were not even needed to escape the bed as Miss Two was out for the count.
I was still stuck in my mum guilt zone when I went to pour myself a glass of red. Instead of sitting down to drink it and give over to my self-pity I put on my sneakers and jumped on the treadmill and walked. 20 minutes later and a more than a few tears shed, I sat down with my glass of red in hand and processed the evening’s chaos.
Yes it had been a crazy evening but it was one evening and how many great evenings had we had where there had been laughter, fun and stories shared.
Then I smiled to myself, thinking tomorrow is a new day. I get to do this again. I’m doing my best, and one day doesn’t define what type of parent I am or how my children will turn out when they grow up. Showing and telling my children that I love them is what really counts.