Some days are bad days!

Some days are just plain old bad days, and feel rubbish right from the word ‘go!’

Today my 2yo woke the whole house at 3am and shouted “Time o clock mummy! Time o clock daddy!” Which when translated it means ” Time to get up mummy and Daddy!” He also woke The Hulk, oops, I mean he also woke my 3yo. Today started horrendous.

I’ll set the scene…

Last night I went to sleep around 11pm, two hours later than normal for various reasons. I’d catered to every need of my two darlings all day who are very much under the weather. We played, they napped, we painted, they moaned, they cried, they ate, they moaned some more, they trashed the house, I tidied, I was a referee, they wrestled, and they cried some more. I bathed them and put them to bed. I was tired.

My 3yo woke moaning sixty minutes later. Upstairs I went to reassure him. I was in and out their room from 11pm til 2.15pm every 20 minutes. I was not a happy bunny.

Then at 3am I awoke to ‘thud thud thud’ across the landing and then a mini beast-like creature jumped right on top of me shouting “It’s time o clock mummy!” I was all like ‘hell no!’ (in my head of course).

I convinced my 2yo to lay in my bed. I tried to make him imitate my ninja-like behaviour as to not disturb his brother in the next room. My 2yo has two volumes; mute or death metal! I then heard the dreaded whine from the room next door “Mummmmyyyyy I’m scared!”

Cue four in a bed.

Four people do not fit in a bed very well, especially when two of them are not tired and like to wind each other up, and the other two are so desperately tired they’d happily sell an organ in exchange for three hours uninterrupted sleep. I was mad.

It was now 4am. I yelled. I then felt guilty. I cuddled them. They dived on me. I snatched that apology right back. I yelled some more.

By 5am the only solution was for daddy to take an unwilling 2yo back to his own bed and lay with him until he slept. After 30 minutes of squawking he fell asleep. The 3yo then slept with me.

Daddy snored. Mummy stayed awake.

I felt wound up. I felt sorry for myself. I kept wishing I could sleep. Instead I wrote my Christmas list! What the heck?! I need help!

7.05am baby Godzilla woke the house again. My 3yo Hulk was pleasant(ish). They needed breakfast instantly and demanded their clothes on instead of pyjamas because it was cold.

I ironed. I made breakfast. I felt agitated. Lack of sleep plays havoc with my tolerance levels. I feel guilty alot for this.

Scene set.

I did not feel happy today. Not at all. It was a bad day! A 3am start robbed me of my ‘patience rejuvenation’!

My 3yo found everything an issue, more than normal! Meltdowns are bad at the best of times but on a few broken hours sleep they’re unbearable. I did not want to reason with him, despite that being the only usual solution. I felt guilty for how I felt. Other mums how do you stay like Mary Poppins 24/7? I was full on Cruella-Deville-mode inside today.

 Today I didn’t want to make 3 breakfasts, three snacks, lunch, dinner, supper. I didn’t want to play. I didn’t want to make Ninja Turtle cakes. I didn’t want to find the microscopic light sabre my 3yo had lost. I didn’t want to find a Clone Troopers arm my 2yo had thrown over the sofa. I didn’t want to peel 5 oranges. I didn’t want to do laundry. I didn’t want to sweep. I didn’t want to watch Peppa (flipping) Pig! I didn’t want to paint. Etc. But I did it all. Why? Because despite my sleep total, and despite my mood, I am a momma. I am the only momma my babies have.

My boys don’t remember (or care) I’ve been up since 3. They don’t understand circumstances mess with emotions and brain function. All my babies see is an unhappy momma who has no time for them – and I do not ever want that to happen.

Every single time today that I felt myself going down Crabby Lane I had to stop, breathe, apologise, and cuddle it out.

Even my husband received my mood as soon as he walked in the door. I did apologise a few minutes later after realising I’m a blooming nightmare.

I then sat down whilst my children were snoring and started telling myself I was rubbish, a crappy mum, a terrible wife, selfish, moody, unpredictable etc. I felt my self worth diminish within seconds, I didn’t deserve my children, and then my Super Mummy voice kicked in. I had to remind myself I’m normal. I’m a mum. It’s hard work. It’s tiring. There’ll be sleepless days. There’ll be yelling. There’ll be tears. I reminded myself that in everything I do my boys are at the centre. They come before anything. And my track record for getting through bad days is pretty good!

Yes I yell, but I also passionately love. Yes I’m impatient, but I also constantly praise my boys. I try my hardest. Sometimes I fail miserably, but nobody wrote a handbook. This is my journey and I’m learning my way through. I am fiercely loyal to my motherhood task. I love my boys endlessly. They know this.

So Mummy’s if you’ve had a bad day, if you regret things you’ve felt or said, please know it does not make you a bad momma! You are doing a fantastic, unique job! It’s your story, you choose the ending! Tomorrow is a new day!

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