Before actually being a parent, I had these grand plans and expectations that motherhood would just come really naturally – that it would be this pure and organic experience that would just wash over me.
I imagined I’d be some plant-based eco super mum who spent her days engaged with her child, educating them, taking them to music class, hippie playgroups, giving them my undivided attention, never putting them in front of a screen and of course I’d not return to work until they at least started school.
I placed this ideal on myself of what a ‘perfect parent’ was and set out these expectations.
Then I actually had kids…
I mean sure, that might be a reality for some, but I soon realised that these ideas and expectations I had placed on myself about being the ‘perfect parent’ were absolute bulls*$t and trying to pretend or trying to impress people is a one way ticket to sad town – for both mum and baby.
Honestly, motherhood doesn’t always come naturally for me. And while I love the shit out of my kids, I still want and need things for myself, and that’s more than okay.
I don’t always wanna hangout with my kids, and play games day-in, day-out. Sometimes I’d just rather sit down, check my phone, catch up on the news or enjoy a hot coffee.
I can’t really be bothered making special food for the kids. They can eat out of a packet or just eat what we’re eating.
I get sick of the whinging and whining. They can just watch some TV so I can have some peace.
I cannot be bothered washing and folding a million piles of laundry. So we pick wrinkled clothes off the dining room table.