Disclaimer; I do not intend to offend, harm or hurt anybody with the following post. Neither is it meant to shock, worry or in any other way throw you off guard. It is purely meant for me to rant and clarify for myself what I don’t want to become. (Release some pressure I have been putting on myself lately.)
I’m not a perfect mother. At all. I wish I were, but… I’m not [period]
There are days I get frustrated with TD2. There are days I contemplate handing in my resignation letter – Only being a mom is the one job you can’t quit. Ever. – pack my bags and leave to somewhere sunny. There are days I ring The Man, crying, begging him to come home and help me out because. Their. Ears. Are. Just. Not. Functioning. Properly.
I sometimes shout at them, I sometimes beg them. And there was this once I stopped, lifted them out of the Bakfiets and told them to walk home, because I was not prepared to put up with their endless bickering any longer. (They were practically murdering each other, screaming. People were staring, trying to figure out what the ruckus was all about.) After the shock wore off, I cuddled them and lifted them back in accompanied by an “I love you both, but please don’t fight anymore.”
The thing is… You have these parents, who pretend that everything is fine. Perfect even. Their kids never throw a tantrum; they are always happy and never frustrate their parents. Those parents are never tired, have an endless stamina and are always having fun. You can sniff them out from miles away. Wearing clothes that cost more than I spend on food a month (both parents and kids), never dirty, – Dare I say it? –
Mom’s had some work done, kids look like they come straight from a magazine.
I am so NOT that parent. I am human, so I have off days on which I’d rather ditch my kids and forget they exist. My kids are allowed to get dirty (Hellooooo, washing machine!) and my kids are happy. They can do whatever they want and don’t have to do anything. As long as they stick to one basic rule; Treat others like you want them to treat you.
My kids are not afraid to come to me when they find something scary, are sad or just need to feel safe. Because I give them safety! I give them what they need and as a return they drive me up the wall once in while and remind me I am not perfect. But they love me. They tell me every day; “Night Mommy, I love you.” And to me, that’s what counts. They don’t need me to be prefect.
(And while I write this, I realise that there is a thing here. I just DON’T want to become anything, anybody, resembling my mom.)
Oh yeah, needless to say when you take a look at the photo embedded in this post… My children dress themselves. Because I’m lazy like that; I have them do anything they can do by themselves. Because they always look prefect to me!