Mummy is Sorry.

When Mum gets it wrong.

This morning I messed up, I was stressed trying to get three kids organised and two to school on time. Clearing up breakfast plates, brushing hair, packing gymnastics kit and had lost my shoes. I lost my cool. I didn’t think before I spoke and I shouted.

Last night I spent my evening writing out Caleb’s chemistry work for today. Having taught the work yesterday afternoon and knowing that I’ve lots to do today I was proud of myself for being more organised.

Part of Caleb’s routine is he wakes hours before us all and heads down to have his breakfast. He gets really distressed if we accidentally disturb his routines or if he sleeps through his alarms and his day doesn’t start as he needs it to. A small change can lead to his whole day going wrong.

Roll on this morning; just as we are heading out the door Caleb proudly announced that he’s almost finished the work I prepared last night for the day. I couldn’t believe it.

Rather than congratulating him or being pleased that he understood it and was able to work through it so quickly and independently, I instead could only think that he shouldn’t have touched it yet. Why have you done that?

Stressed, tired and overwhelmed, knowing I was now gonna have to sit, teach and prepare more science work for the day (or an alternative) knowing I now wouldn’t have the time to sort the things I needed to today for my Mum. I exploded.

All Mum’s shout, we all lose our rag. I know this. Sometimes we are completely justified but today I was completely in the wrong.

Caleb went from proud as punch to full meltdown. I was then left struggling to get his siblings to school, worrying he was away to bolt or hide in a bush and on high alert. All because I reacted before thinking. You see shouting at him scared him, he didn’t expect it and he wont understand what’s caused me to react so irrationally. He will now spend all day trying to process why his morning went so wrong. When it’s not him it’s me.

I’ve spent this morning calming him down, going through maths work with him whilst feeling like complete crap that I upset him so much. I’m extremely aware that on another day he may not have been so easy to console, he may have ran away, lashed out, barricaded himself in his room or ran out in front of a car. These thoughts drive me crazy as I know I wouldn’t forgive myself and it would have been my fault.

I know I messed up. I’m gutted with myself. I hate that as much as I apologise and explain that it is my fault he kindly tells me it’s okay and keeps repeating he’s sorry. I hate that despite my reassurances and apologies he still blames himself.

I’ve always believed it to be really important that our kids know we aren’t perfect; that grown ups make mistakes and that we apologise when we are in the wrong, just because we are bigger doesn’t make it right.

Having me as a Mother; regularly messing up, forgetting things, losing things including my own marbles and winging my way through parenting you would think that my kids would be all too aware of my flaws. But despite my faults being gigantically apparent, they chose to ignore the obvious: love me unconditionally, put me on a pedestal and think I’m pretty perfect. Either that or they love me in spite of my mistakes!

I know you don’t believe Mummy messed up and are quietly sat blaming yourself whilst I’m hiding in the toilet crying at making such an arse of this morning. But Mummy is sorry Caleb.