Tag Archives: mum guilt

A trio of tummy flutters …

It’s almost upon me !

That child free holiday with the current crush….

A few days of theatre and culture and GnTs and no one needing me for anything. A time to just be me . Kelly. The woman who adores the theatre, who loves chattering and visiting new places . I don’t get to be her very often.

Mostly I am mum. The one who nags about pots being brought out of teens rooms and spends way too long of each day deciding what we are going to eat . I love being mum I do. I haven’t always but these days I do. It’s nice to have that little break though isn’t it . *Wankery term coming up klaxon* It’s nice to have sometime to reconnect (told you) with yourself and remember who you are aside from mum .

So here I am , case almost packed . Spending way too long choosing what outfits to take and here they come . The trio of tummy flutters . All with their own individual twist.

Tummy Flutter number 1 – mum guilt

The big bad mum guilt. How bloody annoying is it ?? There’s just that unease in the pit of my stomach , telling me what kind of mum ditches her kids to go away with her fancy piece ?? That I’m not going to see the kids at all for ten whole days because of plans I’ve made.

Logical brain kind of covers for me here because small girl is away with daddy for a fortnight anyway. Whether I was here or not I’d not have seen her . As for the elder 3 well I’ve barely seen them these hols anyway as they’re all busy with friends and social lives and work.

There’s no need at all for me to feel bad but yet there it lingers … I’m not going to pay it the attention it wants though , not this time.

Tummy Flutter number 2 – anxiety

That feeling when your tummy drops because you’ve forgotten to do something really important.

My mental health these days is a pretty stable , predictable thing. Anxiety is always hovering around on the outskirts of my consciousness. Doesn’t impose too often but occasionally just knocks on the door of my brain to remind me it’s still there . Anything that needs planning and organisation is always going to roll out the red carpet for my anxiety. It’ll be stood there saying “go on then , balls this up? I’m waiting!! You know you are rubbish at plans ”

I’ve got to be on a super early train for my trip . I’m worried I’ll sleep in. I’m worried I’ll miss the bus to the train station. I’m worried I’ll forget my tickets , get the wrong train .

That I’ve messed up the dates , that anxiety will decide to show up in its strongest form whilst I’m hanging out with someone I really like.

Thing is , these are all legitimate concerns and ones I can do something about. I can cope with this kind of anxiety. The kind when all of a sudden I convince myself I’m going to faint in Sainsbury’s , triggered by nothing that’s an absolute pain. This kind though with at least a couple of toes dipped in reality I can cope with. I can set 3 alarms , double check bus times and dates and pack tickets.

I can beat this kind of anxiety.

Tummy Flutter number 3- crushing

Though the nicest of all the tummy flutters by far the most excruciatingly embarrassing and kinda pathetic.

Oh I am crushing like a teen with the anticipation of our hols. I am grinning like a loon at each message , tummy flipping reading how exciting he is too , daydreaming of all the great things we can do.

This is so unlike me. I am Kelly , Ice Queen , the girl who simply does not get giddy over boys. Never have …thank you universe for hitting me with a teenage crush at almost 40 most decent of you!!

Ah….hurry up hols , I am ready !!

Musings Of A Tired Mummy

Totally conned by mum guilt… 

Last week we had one of ‘those’ mornings. You know the ones?

Whatever breakfast you offer is rejected. School uniforms take approximately 5 months to put on. The small one remembers she needed to hand in work today. The teens meanwhile are showing zero signs of life despite needing to leave in 30 minutes. Then JUST as you’re about to walk out of the door the teens start shoving letters in your face than need signing RIGHT NOW!

THAT kind of a morning.

Unfortunately THAT kind of a morning brings out the worst version of mum me that there is.

I’m snappy mum, I’m horrible tone of voice mum, I’m tuts and sighs and rolls her eyes mum. Impatient and grumpy and irritable and I don’t like her much at all.

So here’s where the mum guilt con is strong. This monstrous morning led to, having finally left the house to take small girl to school, sitting at the bus stop cuddling her tight and me apologising to her for being snappy. Explaining I just needed to hurry her along a bit as we’d have been late for school otherwise but I shouldn’t have used my irritated tone of voice. Mum guilt also bought her pacifying warm pain au chocolate en route to school to sweeten her up so she didn’t go into school upset with me.

Now here’s where the mum guilt con hits it’s target perfectly.

You see. .. .

It wasn’t me who rejected a selection of breakfast items because the obscure item I’d decided I must have wasn’t available.

It wasn’t me who refused to open her eyes because it was still dark outside.

It wasn’t me crying because my bed was too cosy to leave.

It wasn’t me who, despite having some sucker willing to help get her dressed, chose to lie without moving in a one girl protest about the ‘wrong’ tights.

It wasn’t me who used the time set aside for washing and teeth brushing to instead draw getting felt tip covered fingers.

It certainly wasn’t me who screamed the word torture as I had my hair brushed!

Me? I’d been pretty reasonable. Got up, made breakfast, didn’t ask for any assistance getting dressed or brushing my teeth. Woke small girl with a kiss then attempted to gently cajole her out of bed.

Yet here I was apologising and feeling terrible and guilty about my lack of patience. Promising myself I’d do better in the future. Annoyed with myself I’d been grumpy.
I’m telling you. Mum guilt. It’s one big con.

My Facebook page is here

Burnished Chaos

Burnished Chaos

I am not supermum today. 

I am not supermum today.
Some days I do feel like it.

When the planets align and I’ve managed to squeeze a conversation out of all 4 children before we all have to leave for school.

When we’re sat chatting around the table eating some nutritious, yummy dinner I’ve made.

When everyone is getting along and bickering is at a minimum.

Then I feel pretty supermum-esque, like I’m doing OK at this parenting lark.

Today is not one of those days.

Today I am not supermum.

Today I am barely adequate mum.

Today I am must try harder mum

Up your game mum

Get your shit together for goodness sakes mum.

In my experience a bad morning is often the catalyst to a bad day.

Today was a rubbish morning.
Getting the teens out of bed was a Herculean task.

Small girl insisted her legs wouldn’t let her get out of bed as she was too cosy.

I wasn’t patient, cajoling mum.

I was snappy, irritable mum.

Drinks were spilled at breakfast, a glass was smashed, swear words were held in.

I left small girls homework book behind and didn’t realise until we were seconds away from her going into class. The look on her face when we realised this was nothing short of withering (in my defence I had packed it last night but so keen to admire her work was she that she’d gotten it back out and left it on her bed)

However, she was clearly disappointed in my telepathy skills once we identified lack of homework book.

I’ve spent all day feeling bad and beating myself up over the fact that the last thing I said to the teens this morning wasn’t “have a great day” but something grumpy and grouchy.

I’m miserable I’ve disappointed small girl with my shit telepathy skills.

I know it’s unlikely they’ve brooded on it all day but I have. Bloody mum guilt!


Tomorrow is another day.

Tomorrow is also a day where the elder 3 are going to their grandparents for the weekend (grandma will not sigh and tut if a glass is smashed) They are going to the big fair back home and will have great fun.
Small girl is at daddy’s (daddy does NOT forget homework books)

I’m home alone.

I’ve a feeling a night under a duvet watching rubbish tv maybe just what’s needed to give supermum an opportunity to show her face.

Today I am not rocking motherhood.

Today motherhood is rocking me.

Tomorrow though, that’s a brand new day.

I’ll iron my cape in preparation.

3 Little Buttons

The Tale of Mummyhood