High Five to the honest Mum blogs #solidaritea

There was an article this week on some newspaper or other that gave parenting bloggers a right old bashing. Bloggers, who, like me like to keep it real when reporting the daily (and nightly) grind of being a Mum.

I read it and I have to say I was pretty shocked. It was mean, it was unnecessary, it was attacking and it was personal. Comparing the likes of Sarah Turner, whose words simply ooze with the type of love for her kids that we all recognise, to a drunken woman in the street dropping her baby on it’s head and killing it. Bit extreme eh?

These writers are people who we have all come to consider as our everyday heroes – the ones who tell it like it is, and make us imperfect Mums feel a little bit more normal. They make us laugh, nod along, hug the screen and offer camaraderie down in these trenches of the early years.

It goes without saying that OF COURSE we all love our kids. But Motherhood aint always a bed of roses – I for one am not ashamed to say I miss the good old days when I got to sleep all night, and a lay in didn’t mean later than 5.45. That doesn’t make me a bad mother, does it? That makes me a knackered mother.

Parenting Ecards

I could go on here with example after example…but if you read the kind of Mum blogs I do, you know what I’m saying. I like to read stuff that makes me think “You know what, I’m actually doing an okay job because none of us are perfect”. In the same way some of my favourite Mums to spend time with in real life are the ones with whom I can offload, ask for advice, and occasionally offer it to too. It gives me an enormous sense of (no not wellbeing Damon) togetherness.

According to the article, which in all honesty lost me halfway through, these Mums are bragging about feeding their undernourished kids fish fingers and being wine-soaked and neglectful. (Wine soaked? Did they spill their wine? Damn shame).

For the record, a fish finger never hurt nobody. Last week I witnessed our daughter ate her first ever fish finger after two years of wishing she’d eat something of more nutritional value than plain pasta and raisins. We celebrated, we danced and I even videoed the moment. We all want what’s best for our kids and sometimes that means a twelve minutes at 180ºC meal – probably due to the insane rush between after school clubs, childcare collections and a day at work, or some other juggling act that involves quite frankly being a supermum.

Yes I am a stay at home Mum, by choice. But that doesn’t mean I have to fit a stereotype that has been around longer than my Nan – I thought those days of oppression were long gone. This is 2017 for Gods sake, a time when women do not have to be in their finest clothing with dinner on the table and a smile painted on their face when Daddy walks in the door. Because the plain truth is, that whilst we appreciate Daddy had a hard day at the office, we live in an age where it is recognised that Mummy had a hard day at her office too. There is a reason that the number one response I get to saying I’m a stay at home Mum is “I don’t think I could do it”.

I certainly hope for my daughters, that they live in a world where they feel free to express the times in their life they feel challenged; be it if they are bullied, depressed, victimised or struggling with motherhood. If they should find themselves in these cahoots, I for one will be there right beside them telling them it’s okay to feel it, and to say it out loud. If the day comes, I will, like my amazing Mum, be right beside them telling them that yes, Motherhood is bloody hard, but that they are doing their best and that they are doing an amazing job.

Let’s leave the mean girl crap at the school gates and stop with the low blows. If you consider yourself to be the perfect mother, congratulations, and please let us in on the secret. If not, hi, welcome to the gang.  Yes we are hashtag blessed and all that, and we know things could be mega loads worse than our first world problems…but that doesn’t help when you are feeling like crying over the rejected slow cooked organic steak and vegetable chilli, and wondering why you didn’t just offer jam on toast in the first place.

Sometimes, you have to read between the lines, and not even too hard, to see and absorb the absolute adoration of all of these Mothers for their kids – but if you’d taken time to really read the best of these writers, you’d absolutely 100% know that already.

I want to be in a world where we laugh through the crappy bits, we share the truths which aren’t always instagram perfect, and we realise that we are all Mums, muddling through, however we can.

Cheers to that.


Disclaimer: There were no children present in this (well deserved) Mums night out: 

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