I am struggling to be a good mother right now. Seriously. Three is SO much harder than two. SO much harder.

For a myriad of reasons Saturdays seem to be very tricky at the moment. Love Bug is super tired at the end of the week. So am I. In respect for her personality and where she feels comfortable, I really try hard on the weekend not to put her in a situation which will exacerbate any behaviour unbecoming. Behaviour which – were she not tired – may not happen. Or it may. Either way, I do try to minimise things like being out for too long or around too many people. She needs her down time. She needs her mumma time. And she needs her Love Bug time too. She likes her own space. Something I’m very glad for and keen to foster.

Sometimes, though, we just have to be out and about. Yesterday we had the kindy fete. We’d been there for a couple of hours setting up before it started which meant being up and out of the house much earlier than usual on a Saturday morning, and also meant no time with just us, and approximately 1.5% of my attention at best. So by the time everyone started to arrive, she was done. Cue break down. Noisy, screaming, revolting, thrashing around break down.

Awesome. Or not.

I am exhausted. Just like every other parent on earth. And everyone who works. And some people who don’t. I’m not special, I’m just very very tired. My anxiety is not so fabulous right now and I am also stressed.

I tried to speak calmly to Love Bug. I tried to reason with her. {Parents of three year olds who may be reading this are probably shaking their heads and having a little laugh: you tried to what with her?} I don’t want to validate bad behaviour. I definitely don’t want to encourage it. But at some point I’m human and I just lost it. I put her down and walked away. Everyone has their limits.

Today started off as no picnic either, and I’m even more tired today because I went out for a family birthday last night and had a few cocktails. I have had two nights out in the last three. Something else I probably wouldn’t do normally, particularly over the weekend when I know that family downtime is absolutely essential for all of us.

After a rocky start to our Sunday, the two of us went out for brunch – because that’s what we do on Sundays. Brunch was lovely. We were barely back at the car when she started misbehaving again, and by the time we got home and I put her in her room to have some time to think about it she was screaming the neighbourhood down. This is no good for her, for me, nor for our beloved fuzzies. As one of my dearest friends said to me earlier today they’re so lovely and so hard to manage in equal measure.

I pulled Love Bug’s bedroom door too and left her to contemplate the world for a while and cuddled the dogs. Then I decided to write about it to get it out.

My head and heart feel like they’ve been in a wreck. I am utterly broken today.

Broken.