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Parenting Moments When Wetting Your Pants Is Optional. Or Not

We've all imagined the type of mum we are going to be. We've also thought long and hard about how cute and agreeable our children would be and then, well, then we actually become real-life parents.
Young boy standing in parents shoes
Young boy standing in parents shoes

Becoming a mummy is one of the most exciting and scary things to do in the world. It is exciting because you are combining magic beans with magic cuddles and creating a magic mini human -- with many other exciting ways to become a mummy too, I know. And it's scary because, well, you've seen it go pear shaped for many, especially those irresponsible mummies with their uncontrollable children in the supermarket. Right?


Shall we take off our rose-coloured glasses and get real here? Yes, let's do that.

Parenting is going to suck big time some days.

We've all imagined the type of mum we are going to be. We've also thought long and hard about how cute and agreeable our children would be and then, well, then we actually become real-life parents.

What we all need to know on those days where it sucks harder than a baby on a cracked nipple is that we are okay and it is okay to feel like we suck at this.

This post is for the days when being a mum feels like it's the hardest, most unrewarding and frustrating thing in the world. This is your virtual hug from one mumma to another.

Some days your mini-human will sleep for a total of five hours in a 24 hour period, and it is not in one block of blissful sleep but broken into many, much smaller-sized portions... and always when you have shit to do.

Some days you will be puked on, peed on and pooped on a million times before you have even walked out the door and it'll be the first time since your bundle arrived that you're actually out of your PJs before lunchtime and you've even managed to do your hair and make-up... Sort of. It's just not until later you realise you didn't wash the conditioner out of your hair and you only put mascara on your left eye. Just rock it. Own it.

Some days you will post a cute pic of your baby on Facebook with hashtags like #havenofuckstogive #luckythiskidiscute and you will mean it... In an endearing way, of course.

Some days, the mini human is going to tear apart your soul while tearing up the supermarket aisle and you will be the poor mummy copping the stares from the very judgemental supermarket people. Supermarket people really are judgemental bastards aren't they? While we are talking supermarkets, let me have a word with their marketing teams on behalf of all parents -- why must you put everything we don't want our children to have or eat at their eye level? Why not hide that shit elsewhere and let everyone keep their sanity and shop in peace.

You may have in your mind a perfect picture, but please know perfection is an expectation that you should wipe off your list right now. There is no such thing as a perfect birth plan, perfect sleep routine or perfect child. You are giving birth to a human. A human who comes with their own needs, wants, personality -- and sometimes they're even upgraded and come with devil horns -- doesn't matter if you asked for the upgrade or not, there are no refunds here. There is also no manual, and the sooner you realise perfection is not in your control the sooner you will really enjoy parenthood... And it should be enjoyed. Imperfections and all.

If you've pictured bliss -- scrap it.

If you've pictured perfect mummy, perfect baby -- scrap it. Delete it out of your mind now and forever.

If you've pictured only homemade organic food -- scrap it. There will be days where preparation of organic food will be as hard and as overrated as the first crap you dared to push out after delivering that organic baby and tearing from one end to the other.

If you've pictured breastfeeding bliss and naturalness -- some of us need to scrap it. There will be cracked nipples for many new mummies and as natural as breastfeeding is, it is still not the easiest thing in the world for a lot of women. Totally okay. You are not a failure.

Parenting like a bitch means that you ask for help when you need it. There is nothing weak about asking others for help.

Parenting like a bitch means before you go to bed in the evening, when you've had one of those days, look in the mirror and stare deep into your bloodshot eyeballs and say to yourself, out loud like a crazy bitch, "IT'S OKAY. I. AM. OKAY!"

Parenting like a bitch means you offer support to all those other mums doing it tough. Give them a hand when you are capable of giving it.

Parenting like a bitch means that after offering support (which will be politely declined because we are all so stubborn) you open your arms and your hearts to the troubles and tribulations of every other parent out there. You don't have to take on their shit and you don't have to save the world but being a good listener is heart healing. Trust me.

Parenting like a bitch means dropping the judgement. Dropping the anger, dropping the comparisons and choosing to just be real. Understand that every child and every child-parent relationship is different. Heck, I have five kids, but only three of them toe the line most of the time. All five of them have been brought up the same. Same morals, same values and protocols for surviving. Yet two of them live by their own rules. It is what it is.

Parenting like a bitch means there will be moments in your life when you just want to pack up and walk the f**k out. Hell, you don't even care for packing up -- you're done with that too. But generally, once you're at breaking point, magic happens. The baby rolls over for the first time. Or the teenager randomly does the dishes. Or the non-verbal two-year-old drops his toy and clearly says his first word "F**k." It's moments like these you look away, your once tense shoulders start shaking violently, while you try to restrain yourself from wetting your pants in laughter... Oops, pelvic floors. Wetting your pants is optional, sometimes. Okay, its not optional. You are a grown woman wetting her pants while laughing at her two-year-old son swearing.

From one mummy to another -- are you doing okay?

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