F***! Sorry in advance, but that’s what happened. I started swearing.
Those of you who know me, will be shocked, because I do not swear (a lot).
I actually hated the f-word, but recently I was forced to start using it on a more regular basis (I will try to stop, because I know it’s wrong, I really do). Promise Mom!
So brace yourself for some hard core content, because here’s my lowest motherhood moments
7. The one where I changed countless diapers…
And when I finally looked in the mirror realised why I was smelling like poo the whole day! Yes, you guessed it there was a smear of poo across my cheek.
How come I didn’t notice it earlier? Or more importantly why didn’t anyone tell me? I don’t know. Like the saying goes… Sometimes shit happens.
6. The one where I put frozen cabbage leaves in my feeding bra…
To sooth my huge Pamela Anderson like breasts, thanks to Mastitis, developed during my 13 month of breastfeeding.
Yes, it really helped. Yes, it still is difficult to think of my boobs as sexy. No, I’m not eating coleslaw ever again.
5. The one where I lose it…
After a long day alone with baby. Screaming at hubby for not taking over fast enough, slamming the bedroom door, sitting on the floor and crying like a baby.
Confession: This happened more than once.
4. The one with her first hiding…
Driving back from Pretoria late afternoon, dead tired, in the dark, through Schoemanskloof, to bath and put my little angel to bed.
Once home she wants nothing to do with me and screams the roof of. Around 21:15 (after 3:45 minutes of uninterrupted screaming, exhausted from all day long meetings, I finally snap and she gets her first hiding.
She screams (louder). I cry (louder). And my husband are trying to console both of us at the same time.
3. The one where Minki press the alarm button…
Armed response shows up. I need to open the door and reassure the polite officer that everything is under control (or not).
Once back in the house I caught a glimpse of myself in the hall mirror:
- Pajamas (old ones),
- No bra (breastfeeding boobs are not perky),
- White gown (with brown smears) – could be poo, could be Nutella
- And hair that could only be described as an afro.
Then I realised why he looked at me like that. Oh and did I mention it was 15:20. And I have NOT brushed my teeth.
Poor officer…Poor me.
2. The one where Minki throws a public tantrum…
We are on our way to the car after a busy afternoon of shopping. Heading out we need to stop at the ice-cream parlor, because Minki insists on an ice-cream cone.
Take note: The cone NOT the cup. Big mistake, HUGE.
As we exit the cone melts and so does my heart (not in a good way).
I try to save the situation and turns the cone around in a cup – great thinking right? No. Losing it completely Minki throws the ice-cream on the floor and starts screaming. Every time I get closer so rolls closer to the floor – I literally can’t pick her up.
All the while screaming and rolling. Everybody is looking: The waiters at Panarottis, the people around the fountain and of course this is all happening at the mall entrance.
I’m looking like a vanilla clothed idiot and the worst Mom in the world.
1. The one where I started using the f-word…
Yes, it happened more than once. Yes I’m trying to stop saying it, but it’s just so damn hard.
My days are filled with failures…
Getting out of the car, trying to carry 15 bags, my laptop, Minki, her bunny and her water bottle. Climbing up the stairs our huge Alsation decides to join in and lick my brand new light blue jeans with his muddy tongue. The bag (with the wine) snaps, everything falls, except Mink!
So I swear…
Realising it’s 12:00 I haven’t done anything. Sitting down to quickly reply to some emails and all the dogs in the neighbourhood decides to start barking all at once – nonstop. And if they stop for a minute I hear the joyful sound of Carike & Ghoempie.
So I swear…
Because I fail
I fail to be a good Mom, wife and person on a daily basis.
I try, but it’s hard.
It’s the stupid, little things that get to me.
And it’s hard with all this failing to NOT feel like a constant failure.
I realised that while it’s definitely not okay to say f*** – It’s okay to admit that motherhood is hard.
It’s (for the last time) f***ing hard.
But in between the failing moments there are the little beautiful moments and that makes up for all the failing.
And at night, just before I pass out, I try to think about those moments.
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