It’s official I’m a bad mum.
Lil G and Mr H picked me up from the train station yesterday evening, our usual routine. What was different was the response I received from Lil G. Nothing. Nothing but silence. He was refusing to speak to me. Covering his face with a birthday present he had just picked up from one of his little friends. But what had I done?
To say I was heart-broken is an under statement. I look forward to our little chat of an evening. You know the one, when you haven’t seen your little one all day and look forward to finding out just how their day has been? What he’s eaten. Where he has been. Has he slept (please say no). How was the hour at school meeting your new teacher? I got nothing.
So, I let it go and began talking to Mr H in the hope that as they do, he would snap out of it, come round and forget this little moment of not liking mummy. That didn’t happen. Instead he murmured a few words to Mr H. I’m not talking to the bad guy. My heart sank. I knew he was referring to me. In the mirror I could see my gorgeous boy pointing towards yours truly.
What had I done wrong? Devastated to hear those words; bad guy.
After some persuasion and Mr H leaving us to talk (whilst he picked up the Euros for our trip tomorrow, eek), apparently I am the bad guy because… I didn’t give him a kiss and a snuggle goodbye. Oh my goodness. He’s right, I didn’t. I am the bad guy. I felt terrible then and I still do now.
I’m a BAD mum.
To hear the words… you’re the bad guy because you didn’t give me a kiss and a snuggle mummy literally reduced me to a near on blubbering wreck. It’s been our routine for nearly 2-years. I feel terrible. I wanted to cry. I tried to be brave. But on hearing those words it was heart breaking. Oh the pain.
So, yesterday morning didn’t quite go as planned. Our routine 4-days a week has to run by military precision with little or no time for wiggle room. Lil G was having one of those mornings. You know the one. Less than agreeable. Moving at a snail’s pace. Not listening to Mr H or I. Refusing to brush his teeth. Refusing to have his hair brushed. When I asked him to pick out a toy to take to Nanny’s he literally dumped the whole playroom in our hallway. Crying. Moaning. Wailing as we left the house and all before 7.30am.
Did I feel guilty? Yes. Of course. Was he just tired from an early start, most probably. Were we rushing him? No but he may have needed more time. We were running late and I had to get us into the car. We were late and I had a train to catch. Did I have the spare 5 minutes to sit him down and talk to him, no. That is what he needed. That is the way we reason with our gorgeous boy. For mummy to explain. We needed to move at his pace.
I’m a bad mum.
And that is why I didn’t have time to give him a kiss and a snuggle. Lil G had a HUGE tantrum just at the minute we needed to leave the house. Which delayed us and took away those precious extra moments that allow for the wiggle room. As we pulled up to the train station my train was waiting on the platform. I had to run and sadly didn’t have the time as I was in fear of missing my train and being late to work. That is why.
I feel terrible. Was he thinking about it all day? Is that why he wouldn’t speak to me when I called Nanny’s at lunch time. I think so. And so is the life of a full-time working parent, governed by military precision routines. Occasionally missing a moment of clarity. A moment of reasoning with your tired boy. Missing something which is so important.
I’m a bad mum.
I AM A BAD MUM.
The good news is … We made up. We played a game. We read a story and we talked. My boy is happy. Phew.
And then this morning happened. And the guilt arrived. I found him sitting in the hallway, ahead of schedule, next to his bag which was packed with toys ready to go to Nanny’s. No pile of toys like the day before. And then he said… Look mummy, I’ve picked little toys today and they fit in my bag. His smile as he looked up at me made me melt. As if to say I’m sorry about yesterday. Oh the guilt.
We never did talk about yesterday morning. Clearly he understood. Clearly he knew why mummy was a little frantic. I feel guilty because our little boy has so much to think about at the minute that maybe he needed me not to be so rushed yesterday. He needed me to have more understanding.
I’m a bad mum. Parenting is tough. I feel sad.