Being a crappy mum.

I honestly despise the organic, organised- playdate obsessed, daily-trips-to- the- park, let’s bake teddy cupcakes to nursery, TYPE- A mums that are constantly posting holier- than- thou updates on Facebook and asking really stupid sounding (at least stupid sounding to more ‘go-with-the-flow’ mummies like me) questions on the half a billion or so “mommy forums” on the internet. They irk me no end.

I believe these mums and their presence on the web will be the death of women like me. The cause of the death of our sanity and peace of mind.

By their standards, I am an utterly useless, totally crappy mum. Yes. I said it- I am a crappy, crappy mum!

I let my child eat sweets at odd hours- if that is the need of the hour.

I let my toddler sit with the iPad- if that is what it takes for me to get ready for work.

I bribe my baby to the potty, because her being constipated bears far worse consequences.

I sometimes distract my little one while she eats, so that I can get a few morsels into her very active, but grossly underfed system.

Trying to tame my baby’s locks in the wee hours of the morning, long before she is truly “awake” generally puts my little princess in a particularly dour mood, so I sneak a hair tie into her nursery bag, hoping the teaching assistants at the nursery get the hint. And she goes to nursery a little sour faced and looking distinctly unkempt but less pissed off than she would be if I tried to put her in pigtails.

I let her stay up late, if that is the only time I might get with her in the next 36 hours.

I break a LOT of rules from the Guide to Organic Helicopter Parenting Handbook. A dozen a day, maybe more.

'You know at some point we have to stop swaddling him, right?'
‘You know at some point we have to stop swaddling him, right?’

 

I wish we lived in simpler times. I really do.

I don’t recall my parents ever obsessing about things the way we do, and apparently our grandparents were even less “obsessive”. The kids ate when hungry and slept when tired. They went to school to study, did a bit of homework here and there; and frolicked around as they chose for the remaining time. I remember doing that as a child.

I don’t have a problem with anybody raising their child a particular way. To each their own. But this crazy, hovering style of parenting, and it’s very vocal proponents are like an infection that creeps up upon you. Into your system, slowly; without you ever realising it. And if you don’t give into it, you might end up feeling inadequate and miserable.

Once you do give in, there is no end to it. Like a cancerous cell, it multiplies – grows and feeds on you until it consumes you.

My other half/  the father to my child is my vaccine against this disease. One who moderates almost all my parenting decisions, both big and small. One who usually aborts the fanciful, wasteful, gimmicky parenting actions. And reminds me, each day to try and keep things “old-school”.

I can almost hear him say, ” Our parents went with the flow, and we turned out okay, RIGHT?”

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Till next time.

Dr J.

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