I am an awful mumma

Bubba is now in bed. I am having a very large glass of wine. Then I’m going to have another one. They seem to be helping with my chest pains.

I worked from home today. This made our separation this morning a little easier because we had breakfast together and walked to day care {no car necessary}.

I was excited to pick her up 45 minutes earlier than usual. She seemed happy to see me. We walked past the builders on the corner, said hi, patted the forepaws and caught up with what they’ve done today {dug a hole for the fish pond at the front of the house, laid some sandstone pavers and built some of the side wall} then picked some flowers from a neighbour’s garden, patted cat and continued our way home.

Then we got to our front gate. At which point Bubba started to cry. I asked her what was wrong but she just cried louder. I won’t go in to too much detail, but let’s just say the two hours that followed went down hill from there.

As the parent of a toddler, you have to pick your battles. No bath tonight? No problem. She had one last night, and it’s not like she’s been rolling in mud all day. But I still needed to get her pyjamas on her. And I kind of needed to change that nappy which was causing people a suburb away to twitch their noses. No go. Not at all. Not on your life woman are you taking my clothes off, giving me a wipe down with a lovely warm facecloth and putting a clean nappy and lovely snug pyjamas on me. Forgeddit!

Dinner? Yep, I know she’s hungry. She told me she was hungry. I warmed up her dinner that I’d prepared last night. She had a meltdown. No dinner. I sit on bench. No Bubba, we’re going to sit at the table together and have our dinner. Okay my chair. Then I picked her up to put her on her chair.

Big mistake. Big, huge mistake. {I know, you’re thinking about Julia Roberts and Pretty Woman right now, aren’t you?}

Once she finished her dinner, the next hurdle was that there was no more dinner. I more dinner mumma!! She didn’t need any more, she’d had enough. She also had some fruit. Enough food.

And … and … and …

Until my fuse snapped. Not frayed, not dwindled, but snapped. So what did I do? Well, after I yelled for about a minute straight {not that I think anyone heard me over the volume from the toddler in the house}, I stormed up the hallway and out the front door. Which I slammed behind me for good measure. I continued out our front gate {3 steps} and sat myself down in the gutter. It only took a few minutes to talk myself back from the edge, at which point I was glad I’d remembered to pick up my keys on the way out.

I was just disappointed I didn’t take any wine with me. True. Probably a good thing though – or I may still be sitting there.

One more meltdown {her, not me} later I decided bedtime would come early in our house. Bottle and book time went well. Physically getting in to bed not so well. By which stage I was wrecked. So as she lay on the floor in her bed refusing to get in to bed, I left her room to get on with my evening. A few minutes later she was calling me and the dogs.

Then we went through our bedtime routine and there were lots of I love yous.

But: Oh! My! God! Seriously! Why the hell does it have to be so frigging difficult some days? I feel like I am an awful mumma. I feel sad and I have pains in my chest from the stress.

Surely I’m not alone?

Poor puppy - I would have been hiding if I could too!
Poor puppy – I would have been hiding if I could too!

18 Comments Add yours

  1. Bec J says:

    You are not alone and your definitely not an awful mumma. I can tell just from reading your blog’s that you are an amazing and caring Mumma and bubba is very lucky to have you. Unfortunately these nights have to occur every now and then to remind us to appreciate the good nights. xox

    1. But I remember the good nights so well, I don’t need reminding 😉 xox

  2. Bea b says:

    Oh that’s so sad, chin up guys, bubba has long forgotten it already!

    1. Until last night that is – when she had what can only be termed an ‘epic’ meltdown. Let’s hope this phase is a short one … x

  3. heidi075 says:

    You are so not an awful mumma and you are so not alone 🙂 sometimes they seem possessed by an alien force, sometimes they just don’t cope with life !!! that is their way of expressing their frustration and their need to have a say in their own lives. I still have nights and days like this and Breanna is almost 4 but they are definetly less frequent. I also try another strategy that I learnt through an in service at work (I work in early childhood) when she has lost the plot I acknowledge how she feels (are you feeling angry) and then offer a hug (which she takes me up on 99% of the time) once I hold her tight in my arms she usually settles down and we talk. It works 80% of the time. I have put Breanna to bed some nights and sat on the lounge crying – you are an awesome mumma x

    1. Thanks! We’re still getting through the communication stage which I think makes it so much harder. When she’s a little older she’ll be able to tell me what’s wrong. At this stage, when I ask ‘are you sad’ she says yes and I offer a cuddle and she says ‘no, sad’. We’ll get there. I may have 150 more wrinkles than I did last week, but eventually it will all be okay. xx

  4. Dalton says:

    You are not alone and not even slightly awful!! It does happen to everyone, case in point one day typist was talking to her mum about how she managed to lock the spare bedroom door when she and her sister were little and being a pain (typst can only remember on incident when she couldn’t open the door as much as she tried, screamed, whatever) to which her mum disclosed that she was actually stood on the other side of the door holding it shut, thinking if I go into that room now I will kill her (or something in that vein!)

    It happens to everyone and it will pass – in the meantime, have another glass!

    1. That actually made me giggle. It’s so nice to know I’m not alone. More wine on the shopping list it is then! x

      1. Dalton says:

        I’m pleased I can help!

  5. Paws To Talk says:

    We know you are not a bad mom. We’re dogs and we can tell. If you were a bad mom you wouldn’t feel so horrible and be blogging about it all. *kisses*

    Bella and DiDi

    1. Aw, thanks you guys. It’s nice to have so much support. x

  6. You’re not alone. I also have chest pains just from reading that story! 🙂 Cupcake had a naughty spell yesterday, too, but at least I knew why. (It was because she heard a guy talking on a loudspeaker at a special olympics event at her park.) So a relaxing outdoor afternoon at the park turned into 45 seconds of outdoor panic and back into the car. Your LoveBug is a mystery wrapped in an enigma. I hope the mystery/enigma stage is a short one….

    1. My boss gave me more chest pains this morning when he said he remembers his kids going through it for a couple of months, but then being fine again until they were about 4! Poor Cupcake, give her a cuddle from us. x

  7. Gen says:

    I think you are amazing. There are always up days and down says with babies, but to juggle everything you do with such grace and humour is incredible. You deserve that wine and a pat on the back! Xx

    1. Thank you, that’s a lovely thing to say. I definitely don’t feel very graceful or good humoured right now!! xx

  8. dogdaz says:

    OMG!!! Do I remember those days. I thought that I was the worst Mother in the universe. But, that is just part of the job. One of the smartest things you can do is exit the room, even if it is just for 2 minutes, to get your composure and breathe. You have Bubba and Bubba has you, for the lessons you will teach each other, not always easy. Secret: I guess someday Peanut may tell her therapist about how her Mommy used to stomp on toys that were in her path (I broke many an item) when I just could not take the mess any more. But what she doesn’t know are the nights I cried in the bathroom, after she was asleep, from the overwhelming intensity of work, life, pets, and children – and then in the morning, we were back to ‘normal.’ (PS – at 18 she says that she does not remember any of that and that I am the best Mommy in the universe. So cut yourself a break.)

    1. I’m glad to hear Peanut doesn’t remember any of it. And you’re so right, it is the overwhelming intensity of it that knocks me around. Thanks {as always} for your support.

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