I am not a terrible mother! (and other things I keep telling myself)

I am ashamed to say that I was one of those women who used to frown upon mothers who didn’t have their kids in bed by 7:00pm, didn’t read them a bedtime story every night and let their kids run wild with no shoes, uncombed hair, mismatched clothes or -horror - even pyjamas.

How the (supposed) mighty have fallen. Mini pizzas have become the staple food in our house (no balanced meals with green, leafy vegetables for B), while I’ve slotted Barney into the dvd player so often (to get B to be quiet for 5 seconds/leave mommy alone for 5 seconds/fall asleep/just SIT for a while) that I now know every single song, dialogue, monologue, pause and noise.

So much for being The Best Parent Ever. Somewhere between crying, nagging, snotty nose, smelly nappies, potty training, running around, more screaming and nagging, tantrums, and more tantrums – I’ve given up being The Best Parent Ever and settled for being Surviving Being a Parent.

The jury is still out on that one, by the way…

As ever, I am pathetically relieved and grateful that I’m not the only barely surviving parent out there. If you’ve ever felt the same, read Making (and breaking) your parenting goals.