Confessions of a Bad Mother

Is the title of a book I am currently reading, by Stephanie Calman. The title page has an image of a dummy, positioned like a cocktail cherry on the rim of the glass. That was enough for me to know that I empathise with this woman in some way. The back cover asks “Do you give your children chicken nuggets for supper, herd them into bed and slump down exhausted with a drink?” Yes (and Hannah doesn’t even like them), yes, and YES.

Yersterday is a typical example. I refuse to allow the girls downstairs until I have come round via a coffee. I manage to organise breakfast (Weetabix for Caitlin, so some merit there, but Hannah has Honey Nut Cheerios without milk for about the 10th day in a row. Naturally, by this point they are watching a Scooby Doo video. I then lie down on the sofa for an hour with a splitting headache while the girls systematically destroy the living room and climb on top of me. In the meantime, Scooby Doo finishes, and they switch off the TV and eject the video cassette.

I manage to return to the planet by second coffee and two paracetamol (extra! With more caffeine) during which time the girls eat four rice cakes and two breadsticks each. They leave me alone when they are eating……

I am determined to get through my task list for the week, and so we set off to town in search of new shoes for Hannah (at least a month overdue – her feet are probably deformed already) and more school uniform for Caitlin. Of course, if I were a Good Mother, I would have packed a coolbag with a nutritious lunch and drinks just like I did when we went to the park yesterday with people we know and who might pass judgement on what I feed my children. Not being a Good Mother, we were equipped with two spare nappies and a packet of baby wipes, which actually I didn’t even use. The children finally received some food at 1:30 (at least an hour past normal lunchtime) in the form of a sausage roll from Greggs. The fact that the sausage rolls were initially too hot to eat was the cause of much weeping and trauma. I will also point out that Caitlin not only recognises the Greggs logo, but also calls it “the sausage roll shop”. Enough said.

I am then reminded that nothing is simple when you are a mother (maybe Good Mothers can manage these things), not even buying socks. We find a pack of 5 completely plain and boring white ankle socks for £5. About to buy them (actually Caitlin has stashed them under the pushchair - good job I noticed) when I spot 7 pairs with a nice scalloped edge and pretty butterfly design for the same price! Hurrah....but no. Caitlin wants the other ones. Tears. "I want THOSE". Hissed, through gritted teeth; "This is MY MONEY. I WILL DECIDE WHICH SOCKS." Now Caitlin needs the toilet. The queue is huge. We go down in the lift to the other cash desk. Queue even huger (sales are on). Fortunately this particular part has a happy ending, as Caitlin managed to hold on till we had paid, and I spotted a lovely pair of navy stretchy jeans for £15 while queuing.

After another hour’s shopping, I finally acquiesce to their demands for a drink….a carton of apple Ribena. A small triumph ensues when I manage to persuade Caitlin that the Ice Cream Van Ride (SAFE, and costing me 50p for two rides for both children) was much more exciting than the sort of infant rollercoaster thing that is £1 each and would have left me with the equally scary prospects of allowing Hannah to go on it versus the tantrum I would be faced with if Caitlin went on it alone.

You might have thought that I would have made an effort once we got home, but no, I was too traumatised by four hours of the back to school uniform frenzy – including an hour in Clarks - to provide anything better than Marmite on toast as the main course (OK, they did have some cheese, salad, fruit and fromage frais).

Well, my children don’t seem to be suffering overly from being inflicted with a Bad Mother….and at least I’m not the only one…..