MUM LIFE TRUTH BOMB

mum life

I wasn’t going to share this. I like to keep it light. Positive. Not too personal. Not too Debbie Downer. And I know others out there are doing it tough. Or tougher. Struggling through worse. Dealing with worse. But. This is real life. My real life. Mum life. It isn’t always shits and giggles. Sometimes it’s just shit.

At the moment. If you asked me what the most annoying sound in the world is. As horrible as it may seem. I would have to say. My children. Heck. 

Mini cries about everything. Literally. Every. Thing. All day. Everyday. And it she isn’t crying. She is arguing with me. Talking back. Stomping her foot. Shouting. And not listening to anything. Impossible to reason with. Frey Frey isn’t as bad. Yet. But still. Her tanty worms are on the rise. She clashes with her big shouty-crying sister. Love to throw things. Throw food. And run away.

My marriage is strained. Plenty of love. Not really on the rocks. Just a bit bumpy. We get frustrated with each other. More than we should. Because we are frustrated with the kids. Or because we disagree on how to deal with it. Or because we are both tired of dealing with it. Argh. No time for 'us'. Just the kids. Kids. Kids. It is taking its toll.

I've been angry a lot lately. Wearing my cranky pants far more often than I would like too. Or should. Feeling completely at a loss. And no idea how to 'manage' mum life. No idea how to manage the girls. I feel like I'm always shouty mum. Always negotiating. Always diffusing. Always stressing. Totally freaking out about everything. 

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On the outside. I am trying to keep it all together. Keep it calm. Keep smiling. And look like I have it under control. But I don't. I'm feeling a little defeated. A little deflated. Totally drained. And just a bit blah. I want to be the best Mum I can be. Heck yes. But I am terrified by trying to be the best. I may be becoming the worst. My worst.

The girls. Kick. Fight. Cry. Kick. Argue. Throw. Cry. Cry. Shout. Shout. With each other. At each other. At me. Everything seems to be a battle. Food. Bath. Supermarket. Shops. Outings. Park. Just reading a flipping book gets out of control. Of course. They have their super cute moments. Good times. But they seem too few and far between. I feel more like a hostage negotiator at the moment. Not a Mum. Sheesh.

I always seem to be trying to keep them seperate to avoid the craziness. Try to keep them calm. I find myself pre-empting arguments. Pre-empting meltdowns. Fights. Tears. Tantrums. I am always expecting them. And they always happen. Anywhere. Everywhere. All the time. 

I'm too scared to go out where people are. Like real people. For fear of those judgey stares. When I discipline. When I raise my voice. When my kids loose their shit. When I think I'm going to loose my shit. I know they are good girls. Uh huh. We are lucky. And I'm not saying they are difficult children. Nope. Just that this is a really difficult stage. And I'm not sure how to handle it.

I've tried calm.
I've tried time out.
I've tried talking it out.
I've tried getting cross.
I feel like I've tried it all.

And failed every flippin time.

Dang. Argh. Sigh.

Sure. I put on a happy face. Post happy photos. Happy words. Do my best to keep it positive. In general. In life. And through the squares. Trying to be 'that' mum who has it all together. Trying to do it all. Stay at home. Work at home. Wife. Mum. Craft. Cook. Clean. All with a smile on my face. And a pep in my step.

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When really. My frustration and stress levels are at an all time high. My tolerance and patience is at an all time low. ‘Fun Mum’ has well and truly left the building. I have to leave the room they are in so they don’t seem me cry. Or so I don’t shout like a mad woman at them. And some days. I just want to get away from it all. The noise. The chaos. The everyday. Sigh.

To all those Mums who give a little sideways glance. Glare. Or even judge us who struggle. Those with children will not sit still in perfect clothes with perfect hair and sipping their baby chinos neatly. At those with children squawking around the park like loose cannons with a freaking out Mum flapping madly after them. Go easy on us. We are trying. Some of us have been up at stupid o’clock. And all through the night. Some of us are doing our best to keep it together.

I know I am. I know most days I wake up already anxious. Wondering how I'm going to make it through the day. Without loosing it. Without some kind of meltdown. From them. From me. Without being embarrassed. Without being too scared to go out. I don't want to be angry shouty mum. Heck no.

Then there is the guilt after they go to sleep. About snapping. Shouting. Not being patient enough. At not handling everything better. Or knowing how to handle it better. Ugh!

So what am I yip-yap-yapping bout. It's not that I'm not grateful. I am. So grateful. But at the same time. I'm exhausted. Sometimes overwhelmed.  And really wondering if I am cut out for this Mum gig. Lately. I'm not sure I'm very good at it. What you see. And read on the squares. That's me. That's us. But a lot of the time. It's me putting on a brave face. Pushing the positive vibes. 

Most of the time. I'm a little cross.
And a bit of a red hot mess.
I keep telling myself I am not failing.
Just fumbling.

I know I'm not the first to feel like this. I'm not the only one. And I know it won't last forever. I hope. 

For know I'm just doing my best to ride out the ugh. And savor the awesome.

Bad days. Good days.
And everything in-between.

We’ve got this Mamas x

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