Lately I’ve been feeling a teeny bit inadequate. OK, it only lasted a few seconds but it’s the thought that counts. It’s because I’ve been reading lots of blogs and also chatting to other mums with kids of a similar age. Everyone else seems to constantly be doing craft, messy play or baking beautiful cakes, and they all seem to have children wearing nicely pressed clothes, with perfect hair. Other people’s children don’t watch much TV, they eat their vegetables, brush their teeth before bedtime (without brute force) and play really nicely with other toddlers (without trying to sit on their heads or roaring at them like a dinosaur).
I’ll let you into a secret, *whispers* my kids aren’t perfect and neither am I.
There are a few seconds here and there when they might have combed hair, but usually within a couple of minutes this has been messed up as they’ve raked their yogurt covered hands through it.
They might start the day with clothes that are clean and smart (although these haven’t been ironed, as I just don’t do ironing) but within about ten minutes they’ll have felt pen on them, splatters of milk down their fronts and grass stains on their knees.
They can often be found wearing their shoes on the wrong feet, wearing swimming trunks instead of pants or with their t-shirts on inside out. I try to keep up with redressing them but they often decide to get themselves changed when they go upstairs to the toilet and I don’t always notice.
I can’t for the life of me get my boys to eat proper food unless I make it green (by covering it in pesto) or give it a silly name like worms (spaghetti or noodles), tomato ketchup soup (tomato soup) or flat sausages (homemade beef burgers).
They eat biscuits and drink squash. It’s something I never intended them to do when they were tiny, but thanks to other people around me giving it to them regularly it got out of control and now they refuse to drink water and demand biscuits all the time. Now I’m just waiting for their teeth to drop out and for the dentist to tell me off.
T1 is a bit of a bully and can often be found sitting on T2’s head. No amount of putting him in the naughty corner seems to solve this. T2 hits back and then I put him in the other corner. When E gets bigger and joins in I’m going to be all out of naughty corners in my living room. I may be forced to move the sofa to create another one.
And that’s just them! I’m much worse…
My living room usually resembles a bomb site and I tend to leave it that way until after bedtime. What’s the point of clearing up every five minutes when they’re just going to empty their toy boxes back out again?
I keep on top of my washing pile, but my putting away pile regularly towers over Mt. Everest. Usually I only tackle it when it’s about to topple or we’ve run out of clean socks, whichever comes first.
In winter, I wear a hat for the preschool run so I don’t have to waste time brushing my hair before I leave the house.
In the morning I tell the boys it’s still night time so I can stay in bed a bit longer. It usually nets me another half hour before they are standing at the stair gate in their room screaming at me “Mummy, it IS morning” (yes, I have a stairgate on their room still even though they’re three. It’s an essential piece of twin mummy kit).
I frequently use the white lie that if they don’t do something I want, they won’t go to preschool. Of course this is a lie as I would send them anyway, but because they love going so much they turn into angels the second I make the empty threat.
So there you have it. I’m officially declaring myself a slummy mummy. I promise you won’t find me wearing full make up with high heels on a week day (or a weekend for that matter). I promise I won’t proudly boast about the amazing hand puppets I made with my children (I can’t sew on a button, let alone make a puppet). I promise that if I do bake with the kids whatever comes out of the oven is likely to look rough round the edges and my kitchen will come out of it far worse than you could ever imagine. But do we have fun together? Hell, yes.